


No Bright Line

by swottypotter (miraxb)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (not at all graphic and only in chapter six), Actor!Sirius, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And Achilles and Patroclus, Anxiety, Coming Out, Eventual Smut, Famous!James, Famous!Sirius, Filmmaker!Lily, Historian!Remus, Implied/Reference Homophobic Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rockstar!James, Smut, Social Media, The movie they're making is loosely based on "Song of Achilles", They meet while making a film about the Trojan War, Women Being Awesome, it gets fluffy i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 82,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24239470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraxb/pseuds/swottypotter
Summary: In which Sirius is a famous actor who has stopped believing in authenticity, Remus is a historian with a complex relationship to memory, and Lily is the brilliant filmmaker who brings them together. James and Harry are there too, although they mostly just want to enjoy the beach.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 300
Kudos: 351





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This work is entirely planned, and in the process of being written! Hoping to update at least once a week. There will also be social media components, available on my Tumblr (miraxb)
> 
> Please enjoy, and let me know what you think!

**Sirius**

When Sirius had first arrived at the Potter’s home that evening, he had been unsure what to expect. This was not just because it was wiser never to arrive at the home of James, Lily and now Harry Potter with firm expectations (the three seemed to attract more chaotic situations than any bloke could get his head around), but also because James had been very mysterious on the phone when inviting him over.

“We have news Sirius — No, not that kind of news — Jesus Christ, Harry is only six months old, we’re not THAT keen — No, I won’t tell you — Yes, it’s very good — Sirius Bloody Orion Fucking Black get your arse over here for dinner and you’ll find out!”

Now that Sirius Bloody Orion Fucking Black had arrived at the Hampstead townhouse the Potters called home, he was a bit disappointed to find that it was shaping up to be a fairly ordinary and well, sober, sort of evening. There had been no wine with dinner, and now that he and James had wandered into the sitting room, no one was suggesting any digestifs, either. And while Sirius could understand why Lily might forgo the charms of alcohol — she was nursing his bloody godson, after all — he couldn’t help but feel deeply disappointed in his old friend James. This, more than anything else — more even than the infant on his hip — was the final nail in the coffin that was James’ career as a rock and roller.

“There is such a thing as being straight-edge, Sirius!”, James exclaimed with exasperation when Sirius expressed this disappointment.

“Sure there is, but you sure as hell aren’t”, was his reply.

James could not very well argue with this. Not if his nightly pre-bed joint had anything to say about it.

“So, is anyone going to tell me what this is all about? Because I’m sorry, but I don’t haul myself this far north for just anyone. Or west, for that matter.” Sirius was very proud to live in Peckham, and liked to remind fellow, “posher” Londoners of it whenever he had the chance. Lily, who had just returned from loading the supper dishes into the dishwasher, began to roar with laughter.

“You grew up in bloody WC2, you arse”, said Lily.

“Yes, and my aim was never to return. Hence my… my everything.” Sirius made a sweeping gesture down his person, which, scruffy and torn and black denimed as it was, certainly helped him to make a point. Or it would have, if all the labels weren’t designer. Lily, who’s sparkling eyes clearly noted this hypocrisy, chose not to point it out. Perhaps motherhood had made her soft. Or, more likely, she was just bored of having the same argument with Sirius every time he came for dinner. Instead, she turned to her husband. They exchanged a meaningful look. Sirius hated when people exchanged meaningful looks not with him.

“You’ll take Harry to bed?” she asked.

James nodded, and turned for the staircase. Sirius watched him leave, and then turned to Lily.

“And what was that about? Am I finally going to find out this news of yours?”

“I suppose you are”, she said, taking a seat on the sofa. Sirius followed suit.

“You know that script I was writing last year?” Her green eyes watched him carefully.

“Sure. Trojan War, wasn’t it? Because _that_ story hasn’t been told before.”

“Oh, ha bloody ha. Yes, the one about the Trojan War. Or more specifically, Achilles and Patroclus and the Trojan War.” She was still watching him intently. It would have been unnerving in any case, but coming from Lily Potter née Evans, it was absolutely terrifying.

“Okay”, he said slowly. “Yes, I remember.”

“Well, it’s being produced. Alastor Moody over at Mad Kino Eyes is picking it up. They’re doing… we’re gonna do it right.” Her intensity seemed to flee, and suddenly, she was overcome. She looked down at her hands, twisting in her lap. “He’s — yeah, uh, he’s giving me what I need. To do it right.” She glanced back up at him, and if Sirius didn’t know better, he’d think she looked shy. Bashful.

“Lils”, he said softly, looking her straight in the eye. “That’s amazing.”

“Yeah?” She asked, but she was grinning at him now.

“Hell yeah! Oh my god, Lily, this is incredible. Can I read it? When do you start production? Who’s directing?” He scooted over on the couch and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m so proud of you.”

“That’s the thing”, she said, her voice a little thick. “They’re gonna let me direct, too. It’s my project. All mine. Moody said — he said he saw _Little Blood_ at Sundance. He said he loved it. So he’s giving me the project. It’s mine.” She looked like she barely believed it herself, but now that Sirius had heard the news, he had a hard time feeling surprised. Anyone who knew Lily Potter knew it was inevitable that the world would one day notice what a force of nature she was. And _Little Blood_ , the short she’d shown at Sundance last year, had been phenomenal. Thinking back, Sirius remembered how surprised he and James had been when she wasn’t given a feature deal there and then.

Sirius clasped Lily by the shoulders, beaming at her. He was about to speak, to ask her for more details about the production plans, when a loud wailing interrupted them from upstairs. James could be heard cooing futilly for a few moments, and then his footsteps were thumping down the stairs, Harry’s cries coming closer. Lily rolled her eyes, but she looked more fond than anything.

“Sprog not in the mood to sleep, huh?” She asked over her shoulder, smiling at her clearly ruffled husband.

“Not in the slightest.” James carried over the squalling Harry and deposited him into Lily’s waiting arms. “I think he’s hungry.” Lily glanced up at Sirius.

“Do you mind?” She asked.

He waved her off. “You know I don’t.”

She pulled down the strap of her tank top, and unclipped the cup of her nursing bra, cradling Harry close. Soon, he was suckling happily, his tantrum entirely forgotten. James turned to grin at Sirius. “So, did she ask you yet?” he asked eagerly.

“Ask me what?” Sirius looked to Lily, who looked suddenly caught off guard.

“No, James, I didn’t ask him yet. We had only just gotten through the preliminary hysterics.”

Sirius thought “hysterics” was a rather rude way to describe his genuine glee, but he was well used to a Lily-style deflection, so instead he turned his attention to the more pressing issue.

“Ask me what?” He demanded again, looking from a flustered Lily to a sheepish James. “Is there something else?”

“Well,” said Lily, “if you must know, I was rather hoping you would play Achilles.”

Sirius took a moment to let this sink in. It didn’t take long. It was, unequivocally, a terrible idea.

“Lily,” he said placatingly. “You can’t mean that.”

“Oh?” She lifted her chin at him. “And why not?”

“Because!” he spluttered. “It’s obvious. There’s a million reasons.”

“Like?” She kept staring him down, but adjusted her hold on Harry. She was clearly settling in for a good fight.

“I don’t do drama. I’m a comedy actor.”

“Pft. James said you were talking about making a switch. ‘Broaden your horizons’, hmm? Since _Dogs Days_ ended.”

Sirius glared over at James. It was true, since his TV series had concluded its run, he’d been thinking about taking the opportunity to branch out. Not that he had intended for his dopey best mate to spread the news around. James looked supremely unbothered by his irritation. He shrugged and said, “You know I tell her everything, mate. I don’t know what else you expected.” Sirius glowered, but turned back to Lily, who was now stroking at baby Harry’s head, fruitlessly attempting to tidy the black hair which, at six months old, was already thick and chaotic. She glanced up and smiled.

“And don’t give me some codswallop about how you’re no good at dramatic acting. You forget I went to school with you. I’ve seen you conquer bloody _Hamlet_.”

Despite himself, Sirius smiled back. Her unique combination of ferocity and warmth was too much to resist. James could see that his wife and his best mate were really settling into it now, and wisely took his leave, traipsing back into the kitchen to “find some pudding”.

“What was your second line of defense, then, Mr. Black?” Lily asked.

Sirius was ready. “I can’t do your project, the bloody press will try and make out like I’m the only reason you got funded. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Lily was already shaking her head, like she had seen this coming as well. “They’re going to say that anyway, Sirius. I mean, look who my husband is. And everyone knows you two are basically married. They’re going to try and make out like I don’t deserve it anyway. That’s just what they do when women become successful. But if anything, having your name attached will help. People might actually pay attention if Mr. Hollywood Sirius Black is deigning to act in some nobody’s indie.”

Sirius knew she was right, and he hated it. She could tell, too. She chuckled, and cooed quietly to Harry, “Uncle Padfoot is running out of excuses, hmm?”

It was time to go in for the kill. “Lily, you of all people know the importance of accurate representation. This is a — Achilles is in love with Patroclus, right? Don’t you think it would be… better? Fairer? To have gay actors play the roles?”

Lily gave him a contemplative look. “Yes,” she said slowly. “That occurred to me”.

“And?”

Lily looked at him another moment, as if trying to calculate something in his gaze, then shook her head. “I still think you’re right for the part. You just — when I was writing Achilles, you kept popping into my mind. I’m at this point where… where I’m having trouble imagining anyone else in the role.”

Sirius had no ready reply for this. Lily had swept aside all of his more practical excuses, and all that remained was his own terror of the idea. What would it mean to portray a man falling in love with another man? To portray a man who bucks tradition and expectations to follow his heart? Sirius didn’t know if he could face the experience, or if he would be able to keep the character of Achilles tucked discreetly away in a seperate part of his brain, the way he always tried to do with his characters. Not to mention what the press would say, how speculative the world would become. Sirius could not think these things through while Lily watched him expectantly, nursing his godson at her breast. He needed more time, and he needed space.

“Can I read the script? And then decide? See if I feel like he’s a good fit?”

Lily nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, of course. I’ll send you a PDF tonight.”

Sirius gave an inward sigh of relief. That should buy him a little time. Lily was fussing over Harry again. It seemed he had drunk his fill, and was now smacking his lips dozily as she cradled him and smoothed his hair yet again. Lily shouldered her camisole strap back into place, and Sirius began casting about for the words he needed to make his exit. James, who seemed to have been listening from the kitchen, wandered back into the sitting room and relieved Lily of Harry, bouncing around the room as he tried to lull his son to sleep. He was humming something under his breath, and it sounded to Sirius like the chorus of “All I Need”. Sirius snorted; with a former alt rock musician for a father, it seemed baby Harry was the lucky recipient of Radiohead lullabies. Standing up, Sirius began looking around for his coat.

“Here it is.” Lily offered him the leather jacket, which had been slung over the back of the chair by the door. Sirius was not the sort to remember to hang his coat on the rack.

“Right-o. I suppose I’ll be off, then.” Sirius tiptoed forward and gave the newly asleep Harry a kiss on his velvety forehead. He then completely ruined his careful quietness by giving James a sound smack on the back. Luckily, Harry remained in his snuffly slumber.

“You better come back soon,” James warned him. “I don’t trust you to cook for yourself. And besides, you have a godson now, you’re gonna have to get used to crossing the Thames sometime.”

“Nonsense!” Sirius laughed. “He’ll just come to me and I’ll give him super cool rides on my super cool motorbike.” Sirius looked around at Lily — it was always good fun to see the look of indignation of her face whenever he alluded strapping her son onto his so-called “deathtrap”. However, she was once again wearing the contemplative look she had worn before, while discussing the role. She was watching Sirius carefully, but did not seem to be taking in his and James’ habitual, ribbing farewells. Sirius, now wearing his jacket, was about to cross to the door and make his way home, when Lily’s voice interrupted him.

“You can take some time, but don’t take too long. I intend to start casting soon, and if you’re to be on board, I’m going to need you for chemistry reads. So, think about it, okay? Because I know this is your part, and the sooner you know it too, the more time we’ll have to work together to develop him. Alright?”

Sirius suddenly found that his voice felt hoarse. He cleared his throat, and nodded. “I’ll think about it, Lils, I promise. I’ll read it as soon as you send it.” He had just turned to the door again, when he stopped in his tracks and strode back to where Lily stood. He enveloped her in a fierce hug.

“I’m so bloody proud of you. You’re going to do such great things.” Her voice was muffled in his shoulder, but he thought he could hear her telling him he was a daft plonker. He could feel her smile against his neck, though. When she pulled back, she had tears in her eyes.

“Get on with you, then,” she said. “And message us when you’re home safe, because I don’t trust that sodded bike of yours for one moment.”

Giving her one last tender squeeze on the shoulder, then turning to salute James and the sleeping Harry, Sirius finally walked to the door and saw himself out. As he fastened his helmet under his chin and revved the engine of his bike, he couldn’t help but shake his head wonderingly to himself. He’s said it before and he’d say it again: Lily Bloody Evans Fucking Potter was going to be the death of him.

**Remus**

_Sender: Lily Evans [lily.e.potter@gmail.com]_  
_Subject: Exciting news!_

_Remus love!_

_It’s been ages, and I’m sorry about that. Between Harry (you must come see him soon, by the way, he’s growing like a weed!) and work, I’ve been rather scattered. But never mind the small talk, the point is: I’m making a movie! And no, not a movie like I used to make you shoot at Oxford. A real film-film with funders and investors and a bloody 150 page script that I’ve been slaving over the past two years. And I’m directing it! So yes, hurrah for me, and all that. But! The actually, truly exciting bit is that the film is about the Trojan War, and more specifically, about Achilles and Patroclus. Sooo… since we’re going the full shebang this time and all, and since I actually have a pretty decent budget… I was thinking I really ought to get a real historian on board, to keep us crazy film types in line and all. And it’s not as if I know or am friends with any classical historians with a focus on queer history or anything like that… Ha, as if!_

_But in all seriousness, Remus, will you do it? Please? It would mean the world to me to have you on set. It would be just like old times — and I must admit, with all that is changing around here, a little something sane and familiar is kind of exactly what I need. Let me know what you think. We’ll be shooting during the summer, so it shouldn’t interfere with your teaching schedule. If you’re open to it, I’ll send you the script and have some people at the production company draw you up a contract to look over._

_And for goodness sakes, come for dinner! You know James pines when he thinks you’ve forgotten him._

_P.S. If this sweetens the pot at all, I’ll have you know (top-secret, of course) that I’m fairly certain Sirius Black is going to sign on as Achilles. Just, you know, something to think about ;)_

_Lots of love,_  
_Lily_

Remus read the email and then read it again. When the notification first came through, he had been pleased but a little surprised to see Lily’s name. For one, they almost never corresponded over email — both of them were such technophobes that they limited most interaction to phone calls and, when that failed, to simply appearing at the other’s hall (or now, flat) on a Sunday morning and demanding a catch-up walk. If Lily was deigning to use a digital interface, it must be big. For another, the two hadn’t spoken (either on the phone, or on a Sunday walk, or even over email) in over three months. Remus knew she had more than enough to go on with, especially given the new baby and the not-so-new but still fairly time consuming husband. Not to mention the fact that she viewed her work as some combination of the two, and it was incredibly hard to tear her away from a project once she was in its jaws. Remus didn’t begrudge her the distance; indeed, her commitment and passion were what had drawn him to her in the first place. Lily, her mind always abuzz with new story ideas, and her hands always covered in ink or holding a camera, had been a natural companion for Remus, whose nose was always in some book or another and who would rather be in a research library than anywhere else in the world. When they met at Oxford, it had been exactly what each of them had needed: for Remus, someone to force him out of his shell from time to time, to get him excited about creativity and not just knowledge. As for Lily, Remus liked to think he had perhaps managed to ground her a bit when the story became bigger and more pressing than the present, and that maybe his influence had been the steady calming force that carried her through the rather testing days of James’ early career. In any case, he had been glad to hear from her and had set upon reading the missive at once, even though he had been well on his way to bed when the note arrived.

Now, having read it, Remus found he was some odd combination of thrilled, nervous, and completely unsurprised. Of course he was happy for Lily — she bloody well deserved the opportunity to make her own work; she had more talent in her little pinky than most had in their entire bodies. And he had been expecting something like this since they had left Oxford, if he was being honest with himself; it was too much to hope (not that he liked to admit that he ever had) that the rest of the world wouldn’t cotton on to the brilliance that was Lily Evans (now Potter, he reminded himself). So that left him with nervous. And why was he nervous? He decided to make a mental list for himself, as was his habit when he was feeling more than he could get a handle on.

_Ok, Lupin. Get a grip. One, she’s your favorite person and you're terrified of losing her to the world._

That one was fairly straightforward: he had been scared of it every day since they first became friends.

_Well, Lupin, that’s your answer right there. She hasn’t ditched you yet, despite marrying a rock star and rubbing shoulders with Hollywood. Why would she ditch you now?_

Item one sorted out, he moved to the next item on his list.

_Two: she’s handing you the opportunity, on a silver platter no less, to branch out and seek new horizons beyond your fucking lecture pulpit. Either she must find you boring, or she’s pushing you into deeper waters far faster than you ought to go. And in either case, you haven’t done anything to earn the chance, because you’ve never done anything to bloody prove yourself._

This one was more complex. He picked it apart piece by putrid piece.

Lily was doing what she had always done: pushing him out of his comfort zone, not with anger or impatience, but kindness and belief.

Fine. Fine. Even Remus Lupin could admit that exiting one’s comfort zone from time to time was probably the right way to go about things. What else?

_She doesn’t think you're boring, because Lily is far too self-respecting and intelligent to bother with someone she doesn’t think is worth her time._

This one had the comforting ring of truth: never had he known Lily Evans (now Potter, he reminded himself again) to suffer fools patiently. If he couldn’t trust in his own worth, at the very least he could trust in Lily’s judgement. So then, was her judgement sound? Did he deserve the opportunity?

 _“Remus Bloody Lupin, don’t be a fool”_ , he heard Lily say in his head. How many times had he heard her complain about the respect films showed for history and accuracy. _“Look, I’m as fond of creative license as the next tortured writer,”_ she was fond of saying. _“But honest to god, have the fools making films today ever cracked open a book? If only they would ask someone like you, Remus, you might steer them right.”_

If she had thought that then, then he had to believe that she still believed it now. After all, he had never known someone so stubborn or so unlikely to change their tune. Comforted that point two had lost the wind in its sails as well, he turned his mind to the final, most ridiculous, but unfortunately most pressing concern of all.

_Is Sirius Black really going to be there? And if so, how the hell are you supposed to keep composed in the face of your number one celebrity crush?_

Remus cringed internally when he caught himself calling Black a crush. What was he, twelve? But all the same, he couldn’t deny — and apparently, nor could Lily forget — that he had been utterly blown away, and more than a little excited, when he learned that Lily was friends with Black from school. And it wasn’t only the man’s looks. They certainly couldn’t be denied, what with his shining black hair and smooth tanned skin and sharp cheekbones and flashing grey eyes, but they also weren’t the only — or even the most significant — reason that Remus had found himself infatuated with Sirius Black since he was seventeen and first saw him on screen. The truth was, when Remus first watched Black’s inaugural film, a darkly funny coming of age flick about a young man who runs away from home to become a standup comedian, against his conservative parents’ wishes, he felt something like hope. Remus had only just left home himself, and he wasn’t sure if he would ever be welcomed back. And more even than that, the film was hilarious, and warm, and the most effective way by far to make him feel better when he was in the throes of uncertainty, or recovering from a panic attack. All told, by the time he finally met Lily at the age of nineteen, he had seen the film twenty-four times in the two years since it had come out, and he had essentially imprinted on Black’s charismatic grin. So this was a question not only of meeting a crush, but of puncturing a comfortable bubble of fantasy that helped him to cope. Wasn’t there a saying about what a ruddy bad idea it was so meet your heroes?

Try as he might, this was a particular hurdle Remus couldn’t seem to talk himself out of. He could get over the crush part easily enough — after years of being the only queer kid in an old-fashioned Welsh former-mining town, and then another half decade of unreciprocated uni crushes, Remus was pretty good at moderating his own emotions and dealing with rejection. No, it was the prospect of shattering the comforting character that Sirius Black had become in his mind that really terrified him.

_Well, that’s bloody stupid, isn’t it Lupin?_

Yes, he supposed it was. He of all people knew how damaging it was to keep people in the boxes you made for them. Sirius Black deserved the chance to be more than a figment of Remus’ imagination, and in any case, what were the chances they would actually spend any time interacting? From what Remus could surmise about professional film sets (which, he would be the first to admit, he knew almost nothing about) the lead actors spent most of their time hiding away in trailers, and it was very unlikely a lowly crew member like himself would ever even speak to Black.

At this point, Remus realised with a start that he was still perched on the edge of his bed, wrapped in a towel and dripping water from his hair onto his pillow. He threw his mobile aside and restarted the motions of going to bed, even though his mind was still miles away. Finally wearing pyjamas, with hair towelled dry and teeth brushed, Remus flopped into bed, only to realise he had never moved his mobile and that it was now wedged rather uncomfortably between his shoulder blades. Rolling over, he grabbed the offending technology and made to plug it in for the night, but froze when he saw that Lily’s email was still open on his screen.

To answer or not to answer?

Everything in Remus screamed that he needed more time, more information, and most of all, more sleep before he could make a decision. But, knowing himself (and he did rather know himself) there would be no sleep until the matter could be put, well, to bed. So, he tapped the reply button and jotted out something quick.

_Dear Lily,_

_This is amazing! I am so proud of you (don’t roll your eyes, I’m allowed to be proud of you, even if I’m not your mum)!_

_As for your offer, I must say that I’m rather intrigued. I would love to read the script (I’m shocked you’ve not sent me drafts along the way, I shudder to think of all the anachronisms you’ve allowed with your bloody “creative license”)._

_I’ll be sure to come for dinner soon, I do miss the sprog — and you (but tell James it's for him, I hate to think of him pining)._

_Love and love and love,_  
_Remus_

He hit send without allowing himself to reread (alright, well he reread once, but that’s just because he isn’t a barbarian who sends typos out to live in The Cloud forever).

He switched his mobile off, groped around for the light switch, and, having plunged his world into darkness, began the slow process of coaxing his body into sleep.

**Lily**

Lily saw Remus’ reply as soon as it came in. Why was a young mother, whose child was finally sleeping through the night, awake at 2:17? Well, her husband’s sweat slick torso was draped along her naked back, so take a wild guess.

James had fallen asleep almost as soon as they had finished (a bad habit of his, but one she found rather endearing), which left Lily with no one to laugh with about Remus’ characteristic wry tone. Knowing Remus, Lily could only imagine the amount of dithering and re-evaluating that hid behind his seemingly breezy acceptance of her offer. And of course, his indifference to her post-script was rather telling. Sardonic ribbing had always been his preferred mode of deflection, and if he wasn’t in the mood to talk about it, well, Lily wasn’t going to make him (yet).

Gently easing her slumbering husband off of her back (James grunted discontentedly but didn’t resist), Lily slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom. As she washed up, she caught sight of her face in the mirror. She took a moment to breathe, and let the moment sink in. That girl in the mirror, the one with bright eyes and stretch marks and messy auburn hair, was going to be a professional film director. The girl smiled widely for a moment, then switched off the light and returned to bed.

**~TBC~**


	2. Chapter Two

People Magazine 

_Heartthrob Sirius Black makes an unexpected career move._

_The actor, who gained acclaim for his sardonic character Caleb on the beloved comedy series Dog Days, was today announced as the star of the upcoming historical drama helmed by newcomer Lily Potter. The film, which shoots this summer and whose title has yet to be announced, tells the story of the Trojan War and will feature Black as the tragic hero Achilles. Does Black have the chops to deliver this more serious role? And is Potter, who is best known as the wife of musician James Potter, prepared to work with such an acclaimed and experienced actor? One thing is for certain, we can’t wait to see Sirius in costume — he’s sure to cut quite the figure in a gladiator uniform!_

Perez Hilton 

_Sirius Black to go gay!_

_The debonair British comedy powerhouse, who has been famously tight-lipped about his romantic life since the end of his relationship with model Marlene McKinnon, was just announced as the lead in an upcoming historical gay drama about the Trojan War. The famously loquacious Black, who will feature as the heartbroken hero Achilles, has uncharacteristically declined to comment on this unexpected new direction for his career. Why so shy, Sirius? Mayhaps he’s been distracted by all the bronzed hunks in battle-armor…_

Buzzfeed 

_Opinion: In Hollywood, “Progressive” is just another designer label_

_Mad Kino Eye Productions caused quite the furor last week when they announced that their upcoming gay historical drama, which is to be set during the Trojan War, will star none other than the famous, darkly comic (and handsome!) Sirius Black. Some were shocked that the iconic funnyman was making a turn to drama. Others expressed disappointment that the actor’s first return to the big screen in seven years would be with a relatively unknown director. Perhaps most importantly, many have noted that, while Mad Kino Eye is known for supporting young artists and producing progressive work, the choice to cast Black as the tragic gay hero went against the values that have won the small production firm so much acclaim in recent years. Not only is Black an incredibly established actor — Mad Kino Eye has previously spotlighted lesser known talents — his highly publicized romantic exploits of the past seem to indicate that he is, well, straight. And despite what some may believe, it is incredibly damaging that Hollywood continues to cast straight actors in queer roles. When questioned about the decision, lead producer Alastor Moody said, “We here at Mad Kino Eye are committed to supporting the creativity of filmmakers. Potter said she wanted Black, so Black is what she got. Personally, I like to withhold judgement on these things until I’ve actually seen the project in question. Maybe you should consider trying it.” As much as the famously irascible Moody seems to trust Potter, some can’t help but wonder at the strings being pulled behind the scenes. After all, Lily Potter is married to James Potter, the famed musician and best friend of none other than Sirius Black. Lily Potter, who has never directed a feature film before, is essentially unknown outside of indie film circles. Understandably, people have raised eyebrows at the fact that her meteoric rise coincides with Black’s starring turn. It seems that even in its supposedly “progressive” corners, Hollywood is still, as ever, ruled by nepotism._

IndieWire 

_New Mad Kino Eye Project Announced!_

_Lily Evans Potter, who is best known for her Sundance-stealing short, Little Blood, was announced last week as the writer-director of an upcoming historical drama about the Trojan War. While those in the known have had their eye on Evans Potter for years — she was first featured at Tribeca when she was only 21 — many in the general public have expressed surprise and even anger at Alastor Moody’s latest pick. The backlash is understandable, if undeserved. Evans Potter is the wife of famous rock musician James Potter, who recently announced a hiatus from performance in order to spend more time at home raising the couple’s 6-month-old son, Harry. Furthermore, the couple have been good friends with actor Sirius Black since the three met at Scotland’s prestigious Hogwarts Performing Arts Academy. Incidentally, Sirius Black will feature in the new film as Achilles (to read more about this casting decision, see_ _Should Straight Actors Be Allowed to Play Gay Roles?_ _). Here at IndieWire, we’ll reserve our judgement. Evans Potter has proved herself a capable writer and director in the past, so now it’s simply the question of whether this larger stage will make or break her._

~

**Remus**

Remus blinked blearily in the bright, Mediterranean, 8:00 o’clock sunshine. This was a neglected consequence of taking up Lily’s offer: there would be very few summer lie-ins this year. But, he supposed, it may be easier to face the morning air when it smelled of sea breeze and olive trees. Another neglected problem was the utter sparseness of his production-rented flat. He had found something that might be described as a French press, only it was brown with oily grime and looked like it might be more at home in a midieval torture chamber than a “rustic” Maltese kitchennette. He had hidden it in a cabinet and made a mental note to locate a newer model somewhere on the island. 

Now, he was dithering at the edge of the lot where initial photography was soon to take place. The first week of the shoot was devoted, per Lily’s demand, to rehearsal and cast-crew camaraderie. From what Remus had surmised, rehearsal periods were largely obsolete in contemporary Hollywood, but Lily had a background in the theatre and would have it no other way. Remus was really only here this week to help the set-dressers, costumiers, and props masters get everything ready. And to meet the rest of the cast and crew, of course. Hence his current timidity.

 _Get a grip, Lupin_.

Yes, alright. He strode onto the lot and made his way towards the trailer emblazoned with a big number two, which was the one the over-eager PA at the check-in booth had told him belonged to Lily (or Ms. Evans Potter, according to the breathless youth). As he strode towards the trailer with a confidence he did not feel, he heard raised voices emanating through the screen door. Slowing his approach, he was able to identify one of the voices as Lily’s. 

_Now really, Evans, fighting on the first day? I guess things really haven’t changed too much after all._

Lily’s temper had always had a way of getting the best of her, especially where her work was concerned. Suddenly, the door flew open and a smirking James stepped out, Harry on his hip. Catching sight of Remus, he walked over to him. 

“Lils and Sirius are at it already! This is going to be _so much fun_!” He seemed to really mean it, too. “Did you just get here? I know Lily wanted to see you before the start of rehearsal, you should probably just head in. They may actually restrain themselves in front of you.”

Remus, who had offered his index finger to Harry and was now struggling to retrieve it, looked at James in surprise.

“You think I should go in there? Shouldn't I leave them to their fight? I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“Oh, they’re not fighting,” James shrugged easily. “They’re just caring loudly at each other. Go on in, I know Lils wanted you to meet Sirius before everything got underway.” James patted Remus on the shoulder, then muttered something about finding “the bloody craft services” and bouncing away with Harry.

Remus gave the door another wary look, then strode towards it before he could change his mind. He heard Lily shouting something about “forgetting you’re bloody vanity for five seconds, Sirius!”, and then she caught sight of him standing in the doorway and fell silent. That lasted about a half second, and then she was throwing herself at him in a very sticky, sun-cream scented hug. 

“Remus! You’re here!” 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” He glanced over the top of Lily’s head and found, with a hot jolt of recognition, that a pair of appraising grey eyes were already trained on him. Lily released him from the hug, and shook her head hurriedly. 

“No, no. Not interrupting. It’s just _Mr. Black_ here” — she shot Sirius a dirty look — “is refusing to dye his hair for the role. And we all know that Achilles is golden haired.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Lily, I’m not going to dye my hair. I’d look a right berk as a blonde”

Looking at Sirius, Remus had to agree. His black hair and striking eyebrows felt intrinsic to his allure. Although, Remus reflected, he had always had rather a preference for dark hair, and was perhaps not the most neutral entity. But that was neither here nor there — _Pull yourself together, Lupin_ — Remus’ job was as historical consultant, and the historian in him had to agree with Lily. Achilles simply had to have golden hair.

The realities of Remus’ position seemed to occur to Lily at the same time as they did Remus. She whipped around, her eyes bright and teasing. “Remus, you’ll set him right. Tell the diva that Achilles has to be blonde.” Turning back to Sirius, she said “ _Remus_ ” — she spoke his name with impressive emphasis — “is our historian-in-residence. He knows how to translate Ancient Greek.”

Now Sirius was staring at Remus again, but this time he looked faintly impressed. “Ancient Greek? Really? Alright, well, what did Homer have to say about our gallant hero’s hair?”

Remus cleared his throat mightily. He was going to have scraped it raw by the end of the day. “Er, yes, Achilles is alternately described as golden-haired, flame-haired, and flaxen-haired. Indeed, it seems to have constituted an important reminder of his demigod status, as it was very rare for Greeks to have light coloured hair, and would have set him apart.” Realising he was rambling, Remus broke off abruptly, and felt a traitorous blush spread up his neck. 

Lily was grinning broadly, and Sirius wore a slight half-smile. He shrugged. “Alright, then. I see I’m out numbered. But Lily, _do not_ make me dye my hair. Please. I’ll wear a wig, alright?”

Lily looked unconvinced. “You’ll complain every day about how hot and itchy it is.”

“Lily… I won’t, I promise”. Sirius pulled a ludicrously puppyish face, his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised high. “Pretty please?”

Lily seemed to be losing a fight against the twitching in her lips. “You will, and I don’t want to hear that crap. You’re enough of a pain in the arse as it is.” Her words were harsh, but her voice was fond. Remus could see that she was going to acquiesce, and Sirius clearly knew the battle was won, as well. He had begun to grin full-on, and the effect that seeing that famous smile in person had on Remus… well, he was only glad that Lily and Sirius were so thoroughly focused on one another. Lily shook her head ruefully. 

“Alright, I’ll let Tabitha know she needs to source an Achilles wig as well. But you had better behave, you hear me Black?” 

Sirius gave her a cheeky salute, then started making his way out of the trailer. It was only when they were standing nose to nose that he seemed to remember that Remus was there at all. His eyebrows shot up. He thrust his hand forward.

“Right, Remus, was it? I’m Sirius. Nice to meet you.”

Remus had returned the handshake before his brain even had time to process what he was doing. Suddenly, his palm (which he winced to notice was a bit sweaty from the heat outside) was being enveloped by a very large, warm, and dry one. 

“It’s nice to meet you Sirius.”

Sirius gave him a conspiratorial wink and leaned forward to stage whisper, “I’ve softened her up for you. Hopefully you’ll survive with your bollocks still attached.”

Remus gave a quickly stifled laugh, and Lily marched over to the two men and gave them both pseudo-playful punches on their arms.

“Get out of here, Black! Go find Elijah and bond with him or whatever it is that you actors do. We’ll start rehearsal at half eight.”

Black gave Lily a gentle punch back, flashed Remus a quick smile, and then he was on his way. Remus let out a long breath he hadn’t known he was holding in. Lily gave him a knowing look. Choosing to ignore this, Remus crossed to her sofa and sat down. 

“So how can I make myself useful today, oh director queen?” He fluttered his eyelashes for effect.

Lily snorted and sat down next to him. “First, you can give me a hug.”

Remus complied instantly, wrapping his arms around his best friend. She leaned hard into him, seeming to release some of the tension he only just now noticed she must have been holding in her body. He rocked back and forth a moment, just holding her in his arms.

“I’m so bloody scared, Remus. What if I muck it all up?”

“Hey, none of that.” Remus recognised this version of Lily from the beginning of James’ fame. It was the Lily that wasn’t sure if she could hold her own in the vast ocean of the world. The one who wasn’t sure she could keep her head above water. Watching it happen, Remus mused, was like seeing the most genuine and the most foreign versions of Lily all at once. “If anyone can do this, you can do this. You are Lily Evans, aren’t you?” 

Lily chuckled wetly into his neck. “M’name’s Potter, now.”

“Ah, that’s a technicality. You’re still the fierce girl who knows how to make everyone in the room sit up and pay attention. You’re still the woman even the most berkiest-berk will fall silent to listen to. So don’t worry about mucking this up. Just get out there and tell those clueless buggers what to do.

Lily dried her eyes and gave him a much firmer smile. “You always know what to say, Rem.”

He huffed a laugh. “If only that were true. You’re the one who always has the words. Now get out there and start using them. And for god’s sake, tell me what exactly a historian-in-residence is meant to do.”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a smirk. “Just stand about and correct people, with citations if possible. It ought to come quite naturally to you.”

“Hey!” he cried, but he was pleased to see her re-endowed with her natural confidence. Lily made for the door, and he followed suit. Just before she pulled it open, she glanced over her shoulder and asked, eyes sparkling, “So what did you think of Sirius?”

~

**Sirius**

The first day of rehearsals carried Sirius on a curious emotional boomerang: in one moment, he was utterly thrilled to be a part of things, and in the next, he was cursing his own hubris in believing he could possibly pull any of it off. It didn’t help that Lily had absolutely no qualms about pushing the cast directly into the deep end, swimming experience optional. 

“Alright, Sirius, Elijah, let’s open our scripts to page twenty-five. I’d like to see what you two do with this scene right off the bat. I’ll give you adjustments later, but first I just want to see where your instincts take you.”

Elijah, the sweet American kid who was playing Patroclus, was speedier in finding the page. He turned pink while staring down at the words. Sirius, with a sinking feeling, flipped like a madman in order to confirm his suspicions. Sure enough, Lily had chosen to start right in on the scene where Achilles and Patroclus kiss for the first time. Sirius carefully schooled his expression — his stomach may be turning somersaults, but on the surface, he was a seasoned actor. Achilles was not him, nor he Achilles. He could do this. He gave Elijah a teasing smirk that he did not feel.

“Alright, lover. Let’s try this out.”

Elijah smiled shyly and walked forward. Sirius sat down on the ground, and Elijah sat beside him. Lily stood some paces away, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes alert and critical. 

“Take a few seconds to settle in. And then begin.” She said.

Sirius closed his eyes, trying to pull Achilles to the forefront. He wasn’t fully there yet — still only the faint shreds of personhood that had made themselves known while Sirius read the script, and that were then tweaked in his conversations with Lily and his time spent reading with the various Patroclus-hopefuls. Elijah had been both his and Lily’s first choice, and he had only had to come for two callbacks before they called off the search entirely. Elijah, with his warm brown eyes and curly brown hair, embodied a gentle sweet openness, and a shy intelligence, that complemented and tempered Sirius’ brasher undercurrents, his slight haughtiness, and his more critical gaze. The twenty-two year old actor was a fresh Juilliard graduate, and while the program’s commitment to vocal training meant he could do a very capable British accent, his normal speaking voice carried a soft Texas twang. Focusing on the man in front of him, Sirius tried to relax into these traits, to pull forward a feeling of friendship and tenderness. As for the electric undercurrent of uncertainty, possibility, and fear — well, that was all Sirius had been feeling for weeks now, so it came fairly easily. 

Elijah’s face had taken on a very focused look, a bit distant and unsure, like he was trying to sort something out for himself as he gazed at Sirius. No, Sirius realised, not for himself. It was Patroclus who was trying to line up the dots right now, to uncover some mystery hiding in _Achilles’_ face. Elijah was ready to start swimming, so it was time for Sirius to jump in after him. 

“What?” Achilles asked, when he could no longer bear to be excluded from Patroclus’ churning thoughts.

“Nothing.” Came Patroclus’ reply. He continued to gaze thoughtfully at Achilles, breathing deeply and slowly.

Sirius stirred beneath Achilles’ surface, something terrifying leaping in his chest. He struggled to pull Achilles back over him, to feel the tension of a young man on the brink, rather than the horror of a slightly older man who had long since run as far away from the cliff edge as he could.

Achilles shifts, leaning forward slightly, propping himself up on one muscled arm. He kept gazing steadily into the eyes of his best friend, his bosom companion, Patroclus. But maybe not just friend, maybe not just companion. Why was the light in his eyes so bewitching? Why was the hair curling at his nape so sweetly tempting? 

Sirius felt another twist in his gut ripple across the facade that was Achilles. He fought against it. _Achilles is not you. Everyone here knows that. And so do you. So do you._

Patroclus shifts forward slightly, slowly, and then all at once his lips land on Sirius’. _Not Sirius’! Achilles’!_ Achilles lets the kiss wash over him, wondering at the warmth of it, the rightness of it. All too soon, Patroclus jolts away, and Achilles (or is it Sirius?) is brought abruptly back to the reality of what just happened. He stands fluidly, calling on the grace of his childhood ballet lessons (no, his lifetime of sword training, he reminds himself) and stares down at Patroclus with a face like stone. Patroclus looks horrorstruck, and reaches out an arm, but before he can move very far, Achilles is turning on his heel and sprinting away. Running, running, running.

“Cut!” calls Lily. “Sirius, get back over here.”

Sirius takes a deep breath in, willing his lungs to become completely his own. Forcing his easy grin back in place, he takes a leisurely jog back to where Lily stands with Elijah.

“How did that feel, you two?” 

“Good, I think,” says Elijah. “I just, um, I think my biggest question right now is, like, when exactly does Patroclus decide to go in for the kiss? Like, does he know from the beginning of the scene, or is it a last-second kind of thing?”

Lily nods thoughtfully. “What do you think?”

“I — huh. I’m not sure.”

Lily turns to Sirius. “Do you have a theory?”

Sirius thinks for a moment. “I think… I think it only occurs to Patroclus to kiss me — to kiss Achilles — right before it happens. From how I was feeling during that run, I feel kind of like Achilles is actually the one who initiates the kiss, but somehow he makes Patroclus feel like it was his idea.”

Lily is smiling. “I think you’re absolutely right.” Elijah is looking at Sirius with something akin to awe, and Sirius isn’t sure whether to smile humbly or tell him to fuck off. Probably smile. He does.

“Elijah, what exactly are you looking for in Achilles’ face at the beginning of the scene?” Lily continues.

“I think I’m just… noticing. I think, I think I’m seeing how beautiful he is. And I’m just sort of… wondering about that, that beauty.” Elijah blushes again, looking sideways at Sirius from beneath his long lashes. 

She nods, but pushes him further: “I agree. But maybe that beauty isn’t all about the external, right? I’m thinking maybe part of the beauty you’re seeing is about the man you know is inside. It’s about the beauty learned through intimacy, more so than just aesthetics.”

Elijah is nodding energetically now, his brow furrowed with thought. “Yeah, I completely know what you mean.” Lily smiles happily, then turns to Sirius.

“And you, tell me about Achilles’ journey in this scene.”

Sirius hesitates a moment before speaking, getting his thoughts in order. “I think Achilles… knows a little about the effect he is having on Patroclus. I think he sort of wants to push those buttons. But then I think he underestimates how much the kiss will do to him. I think he’s terrified when he realises… when he realises… “ He trails off.

Lily is watching him thoughtfully. “Yeah, I think you’re right, that there’s a certain way in which Achilles is testing out the boundaries of this thing, this connection he’s forged with Patroclus. I think maybe what you were getting at at the end there is…” — she hesitates for a moment, clearly trying to get the next words exactly right — “Is that he thinks he’s pushing Patroclus’ buttons, but really he is sort of pushing his own. And when he realises that, he understands that what he is feeling is much more than brotherly affection. And suddenly the stakes become much higher for him.”

Sirius finds that his voice is hoarse when he replies. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Exactly.”

Lily gives him another hard look, then turns to someone behind her. “Anything to add, Rem?”

Sirius starts, having failed to notice that the rather serious young man — the historian, he reminds himself — from the trailer earlier is standing just a few paces behind Lily, and off to the side. He looks surprised to be addressed.

“Me? You’re the director.”

Lily laughs. “Yes, I had noticed that. Thank you. But we’re not just paying you to stand around and look pretty. Do you have any historical context to add?”

The man — Remus, Sirius recalls — rubs the back of his neck. Then he speaks, his words measured, thoughtful, and confident. His voice has that curious quality of being quiet but also impossible to mishear. “I suppose what I’m thinking about while I watch this scene is that young boys exchanging kisses, or even engaging in some sexual activities, was fairly commonplace in Ancient Greece. It was an accepted — if not openly discussed — way of gaining experience and satisfying adolescent urges. I suppose, then, that Achilles’ reaction here is even more telling, for if he wasn’t feeling something — something more intense — well, then, he would likely have been comfortable with using Patroclus for the sake of experimentation and, hm, satisfaction.” 

Remus said all of these things quite plainly, without embarrassment. It was clinical, detached, observant. He said it all while looking Sirius right in the eye. Sirius suddenly had the overwhelming urge to flee, to find somewhere dark and shady and hidden away from insightful tawny eyes. He resists the urge, instead forcing himself to nod breezily. 

“That makes sense,” he says. 

Elijah is nodding enthusiastically again, giving Remus the same look of awe he had previously bestowed on Sirius. _Fucking hell, this kid was ready to worship anyone who could string three words together._

Before the thought was even completely formed in his mind, Sirius was chastising himself.

_Remember what you were like on your first set? You thought the director shat solid gold._

Lily clapped her hands to get the attention of the three men, again. “I want to do that a couple more times, and then we’ll take a look at scene twelve. The rest of the cast will arrive by half eleven, so we’ll give everyone a chance to settle in and then have a table-read after lunch. Sound good?”

Elijah and Sirius both assented (Elijah rather more excitedly) and then they reset for the scene. Sirius, sitting with his legs crossed in the sand, pulled Achilles back over him. He was a prince with a fate, and right now he was sitting on the beach of his life-long home, watching the world drift by alongside his best friend. And everything was about to change. 

~

**Remus**

Watching Sirius Black act was… something else. Remus had grown used to the mischievous grey eyes, the wicked grin, and the bark-like laugh while watching the man’s comedy. But he was completely unprepared for how it would feel to see those same traits utilised in dramatic acting. He gave Achilles a sprite-like liveliness, while still somehow projecting the image of a young man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He balanced the two sides with acrobatic precision — sometimes laughing in the face of death, and then a moment later portraying all the gravity and majesty of first love. 

Elijah Jaffe, who was playing Patroclus, was very good too. He deftly embodied the kind, observant soul of Patroclus. He had an innocence that Sirius did not, and a genuine awe for the world of filmmaking. Remus could relate to that — life on set was nothing like he had expected.

The rest of the cast and crew arrived over the next couple of hours, the stars moving into their trailers, the hair and makeup crowd taking over another two trailers, and the technical crew traipsing back and forth across the lot lugging heavy lights, cameras, and other equipment Remus didn’t even have a name for. He had always known, of course, that there was a lot going on behind the camera — Lily always made her movie-watching companions watch through the end of the credits with her — but somehow the black-and-white scroll of names had failed to impress upon him what a veritable army a film crew was. 

This first week of rehearsals was only for central characters, so Remus knew that once all the ensemble cast — not to mention the armies worth of extras — had arrived, the lot would feel even more crowded. In the craft-services tent where Remus took lunch, he met the actress playing Briseis. She was a newcomer just like Elijah, an unusual-looking yet beautiful young French woman named Genevieve with deeply tanned skin and head of thick, glossy, black curls. She had very sharp, almost flinty black eyes and a surprisingly deep, throaty voice. Remus liked her immediately, and when she correctly translated the Ancient Greek lettering that decorated his t-shirt, he knew he would work to befriend her even if it was the only thing he managed to achieve that summer. 

Odysseus was the British-Iranian character actor Omar Heyes, who Remus recognised from a production of Chekhov’s _Cherry Orchard_ he had seen on the West End the year before. Heyes seemed pleased when Remus brought this up to him, commending him on his excellent taste in theatre, and asking him if he was familiar with other Chekhov works. This quickly evolved into a conversation about Russian literature in general, and Remus found himself pleasurably reminded of his days eating in halls at Oxford, each meal an opportunity to pick apart some assigned text or another, or to delve into the vast ocean of ideas the world had to offer. It was a feeling he had not realised he was missing so very much, but now he could see more clearly than ever how much he disliked the endless drivel about getting published and achieving tenure that filled the History offices at the university.

Sirius Black was glaringly absent from the lunch tent, and Remus only had to wonder about this for a few minutes before Horace Slughorn, the actor playing Agammemnon, made a snide remark to no one in particular about how “he supposed the famous Mr. Black had had special food delivered directly to his trailer.” Remus had been rather stunned to hear a cast member so openly criticising one of his colleagues, and was gratified to hear Geneveive respond calmly but cooly that, actually, she had seen Sirius walking around the lot holding the director’s baby so that she and her husband could grab a bite to eat and moment of quiet. When this had the effect of Slughorn going off on a tangent about how “ _unusual_ it was for a director to bring their child on set”, Remus had been on the verge of jumping to his feet and inviting the massive actor to fistfight. Luckily for everyone, Lily and James chose that moment to make an appearance in the tent. 

“How’s everyone settling in?” Lily asked.

Slughorn beamed widely and, with a voice dripping with flattery, told Lily just how _thrilled_ he was to be there and how _utterly charming_ all of his fellow cast was, and how _marvelous_ she looked. Lily looked mildly amused and thanked Slughorn, tugging James along by the forearm when he looked ready to give his own manner of reply. 

Lunch soon ended and James wandered off to relieve Sirius of Harry-sitting duty. The cast and the creative team all found seats around the central table, the cast with highlighted scripts and the creative team armed with notebooks and pens. Sirius finally entered the tent, greeting everyone with a warm smile and a genuine apology for his lateness. Remus had to restrain himself from giving Slughorn a meaningful look. Genevieve had no such qualms, and, as Slughorn quailed under her gaze, Remus made a mental note never to get on her bad side. 

Lily stood at the head of the table, and everyone fell silent, waiting for her to speak.

“I cannot express to you all how much it means to me to have you here. This is a story I have had in my mind since I was seventeen years old, and to finally have the opportunity to make it come to life — well, suffice to say I intend to make the most of it. And I know all of you are here with that same intention. So, without further ado, let us break ground on this script and begin building a new little world together.”

Lily pointed wordlessly at her assistant director Ewan, who commenced reading the stage directions. 

_“We see the court of Phthia waking up for the day…”_

~

The rehearsal drew to a close at five that afternoon, and James returned to the lunch tent with Harry. After greeting her husband and son, Lily turned to the cast at large and invited everyone to join them for dinner that night. 

“Cast and crew, I want everyone there. Whether you’re a PA or Sirius Bloody Black.” Sirius groaned good-naturedly at this, rolling his eyes. “Let’s start this thing on the right foot, yeah?”

There was general agreement (Slughorn said something that everyone chose to ignore about how he hardly thought the PAs needed to come) and James announced the name of the restaurant they would be meeting at in two hours time. 

Remus made himself scarce very quickly after that, needing the time to recharge a bit before socialising any more. He thought he might change into something a bit, well, _less sweaty_ for the restaurant, so he headed for the crew shuttle that would carry him back into town where his flat was. He had just settled into a window seat, letting his eyes slip shut against the still-bright sunshine, when a loud Italian-accented voice punctured the calm.

“You are Remus, yes?” She pronounced his name with a rolled _R_ and a barely-there _S_.

He looked up in surprise at the speaker. She was a willowy, tanned woman with long, wavy hair that floated midway down her back. She was trailed by a shorter, stockier woman with sun-burned shoulders and a sandy blonde pixie cut. 

Remus nodded uncertainly.

“Ah, good,” the Italian woman said. “I am Marlena and this” — she gestured to her companion — “is Dinah. Ewan told you we would be flatmates, no?”

Ah, yes. the flatmates. As a “general member of the crew” (read: not even a little bit of a big-shot) Remus was not entitled to housing all his own. This, he understood, was reserved for the stars and the director. That was fine with Remus, who had never minded flatmates — they stopped him from becoming too much of a hermit. Ewan the AD had told Remus in an email a few weeks ago that he would be housing with the props and costume mistresses, who happened to be a couple.

Remus stood and offered his hand to Marlena and then Dinah. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Yes, you too.” Marlena replied. “We are sorry we were not there last night — I have a brother in the area who we visited. I hope you do not mind that we move in this afternoon?”

“No, no, of course not,” Remus replied hurriedly. “There’s no need to apologise.”

Dinah finally spoke for the first time, a rueful smile on her face. “I think Marlena is just warning you in a round-a-bout kind of way that we have a lot of things to carry in. It might not be a peaceful afternoon. And you look exhausted.” Dinah had a soft, American accent and kind eyes that seemed to miss out on nothing. 

Marlena was already speaking again. “Nonsense, Di, we will be quiet as mice. Remus will hardly notice we are there. Do you like _risotto_ , Remus?”

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but Dinah was already tugging Marlena away to a different row of the shuttle. She shot him a wry look.

“But I want to chat with Remus!” Marlena complained. 

“We’ll chat with him later, love,” was Dinah’s gentle reply. 

Remus leaned back against the window, closing his eyes once again. It was going to be an interesting summer.

~

**Sirius**

Sirius had tried to beg off dinner — the first day of rehearsals had left him astoundingly knackered — but Lily had made it very clear to him that attendance was _not_ optional, so here he was, dressed in a crisp linen shirt and black jeans. 

The restaurant James had picked was, in true James fashion, tiny and loud and full of fascinating smells. While James had still been a touring musician, he had made it his mission to always find the most authentic local cuisine in any city he stopped. He was clearly bringing the same zest for other cultures to his job as trophy-husband. By prior arrangement (Sirius could just picture the one hundred euro note James had no doubt slipped discreetly into the hostess’ apron pocket) the production had the main dining room all to themselves. The entire space was aromatic with cloves and ginger, olives and roasting lamb. 

Most everyone had arrived by the time Lily, James, Harry, and Sirius took their seats. This was through no fault of Sirius’ (although Slughorn’s expression seemed to indicate he believed otherwise) and had much more to do with the fact that Harry was currently going through a charming phase in which he absolutely refused to get dressed under any circumstances. This meant that James, Lily, and Sirius had to take turns distracting the little blighter until he was too exhausted to put up a fight, at which point they were allowed to pull some clothes over his head and bundle him out the door. Sirius had wondered more than once throughout the process why he hadn’t just elected to rent his own house nearby, but he knew in his heart of hearts that he wouldn’t exchange the opportunity to live with his best friends and godson all summer for anything. Even if it did mean this was his second shirt of the evening, the first having been sacrificed to some particularly enthusiastic spit-up.

Sirius found himself seated between that historian chap — Remus, his memory supplied helpfully (along with the image of his penetrating tawny eyes, which was rather less helpful) — and the actress playing Briseis. Lily and James sat across from him, baby Harry happily ensconced in a high-chair between them. 

The arrival of the director and her entourage (as Sirius had begun describing himself, James, and Harry, much to Lily’s amused chagrin) seemed to act as a signal, because a host of waiters immediately swept out and soon the table was creaking under a veritable cornucopia of hot and fragrant dishes. Everyone dug in with enthusiasm (save the woman playing Helen, a model-turned-actress named Fleur who asked rather pointedly for an undressed green salad). 

With wine flowing and good food aplenty, the conversations soon thawed, too. Sirius found himself rather caught up watching an exchange between Remus and Elijah. They were discussing the impact of the classical tradition on American architectural styles. Remus was making some point about how overrated Thomas Jefferson was, and Elijah was nodding along in puppyish agreement. Sirius found himself unaccountably irritated with Elijah. It wasn’t that he disagreed with Remus; quite the contrary, he found himself completely enthralled by the musical rhythms of the man’s Welsh accent, and riveted by the eloquence of his words. But something about that bloody American kid was rubbing him the wrong way. He reminded himself he’d have to move past that, if they were really going to play lovers. _Oof, lovers._ What a word.

Sirius was soon interrupted in his train of thought by James loudly calling his name.

“What?” he asked, more waspishly than he’d intended.

“Me and Lils were just telling Omar here about our days at good old Hogwarts. Thought maybe you’d have something to contribute?”

Sirius looked to Lily’s left and saw the slim, swarthy man playing Odysseus leaning forward in interest.

“I have only ever met one Hogwarts graduate in my years working in the business, and he was… well, a character, to say the least.”

“Ha! I’ll bet. Was it Davey Gudgeon? I hear he’s still doing that ventriloquist act in Covent Garden.” This was James. He had finally relented in his teetotalling ways, but it was obvious that his tolerance was shot to shit.

“No, it was not a Davey,” Omar replied. “Although that does sound very funny — I’ll keep an eye out for him when we’re back in London. It was an oboist named Severus? He worked the pit in a musical I did two years ago.”

Sirius felt like he had been doused in cold water. He glanced towards James in panic, but James had been sidetracked into a conversation with Harry. The two were babbling to one another fluently, and it was hard to say who was getting more out of the interaction. Lily had heard, though, and was watching Sirius now with a mixture of anger and concern on her face. Despite all that had happened since _the incident_ , he knew she still had trouble forgiving him completely. But that didn’t mean she wanted him to suffer. Lily was far too kind for that. She turned to Omar with an electric smile.

“Oh! What musical was it? I didn’t know you had done work in musical theatre!”

If Omar noticed the swerve in topic, he made no mention, instead jumping into an enthusiastic description of his time playing Mr. Wormwood in _Matilda_. Sirius leaned back in his seat and pushed his plate slightly to the side. The food, which previously had been so inviting, now smelled almost rancid with oil. Looking around, Sirius was relieved to see that the table was still bubbling with conversation and laughter. No one had noticed his funny turn. Or, almost no one. From beside him, a quiet Welsh voice intruded. “It’s a bit hot in here, isn’t it?” 

Sirius turned and looked at Remus in surprise. “Yes, it is a bit.”

Remus cleared his throat gently. “I was thinking I might step outside for a fag. You could join?”

Sirius felt a sheepish grin spread across his face. “Yeah, I might do with a fag myself.”

“You smoke?”

“Not officially, and not very often. But it’s been known to happen from time to time, yes.”

Remus smiled ruefully. “I suppose you don’t want the tabloids to know, then?”

“Oh, god, please, no.”

“Then we had better duck out the back, I reckon. I noticed a photog through the window a few minutes ago.”

Sirius whipped his head around, and sure enough, he saw the tell-tale glinting of a pap’s lens.

“How the hell did you see that?” he asked in astonishment. “You’re not even —” He broke off, realising he was about to say, “You’re not even famous!” But he thought he might just have to off himself if those words escaped his mouth. Remus, who seemed to know exactly what he had been about to say, just smiled smugly.

“I suppose you could say I’m observant.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Sirius began standing up. Several people nearby stopped talking, and Lily raised her eyebrows high. “Making an early getaway, Black?”

“And miss out on the party? Never. I just fancy some air. Thought I’d maybe join Remus here while he smokes.”

Lily’s eyes flashed to Remus, who was now standing up beside him.

“Being a good influence, are we?”

Remus chuckled. “Sirius isn’t having one, he’s just keeping me company.”

Lily looked as though she did not believe this for a second, but the next moment Harry had grabbed a fistful of her red hair and _yanked_. She cursed loudly then covered her mouth, looking around the table in embarrassment. The cast all laughed good-naturedly, reassuring her that they did not mind in the least. Omar grinned wickedly and squeezed Lily ‘round the shoulder, jumping into a story about his own six-year-old son. Sirius made a mental note to buy Harry an extra-large teddy as soon as possible. The kid had good timing.

Sirius and Remus took the opportunity to make their escape, although it was not as subtle as Sirius might have hoped. As he strode away from the table, a flash went off in his periphery. It didn’t really matter, though. It wasn’t as if the paps could write a story about Sirius Black going to the loo. 

_Could they?_

Remus seemed to know exactly where he was going, making directly for the kitchen door. There, he conversed briefly with a waiter, who nodded seriously and then gestured with his arm for the two men to follow him. A quick trip through a smokey, blazing-hot kitchen, and then a blast of cool evening air. The alley behind the restaurant was dark and quiet, deserted save for a few bins. 

“This is much, much better.” Sirius groaned, leaning against the brick wall.

“No, _this_ is much better.” Remus was offering him a lit cigarette, lighting another one between his own lips. Sirius took the cigarette gratefully, and breathed in a huge lungful of bitter smoke.

“Ah, heaven,” he sighed on the exhale.

Remus hummed in agreement, his eyes closed as he savoured the smoke. 

Sirius took in the man beside him. He was lanky — not quite so tall as Sirius, but nowhere near short. His hair was curly and light brown, almost the same colour as his eyes. The eyes, which were still closed, were framed in thick lashes that brushed the tops of freckled cheekbones. From this close, and gently illuminated as he was by the windows of the restuarant and the glowing cherries of the fags, Sirius could see that Remus had fine scars on his face — one across the bridge of his rather crooked nose, and another from right under his left eye to the hairline at his left temple. Remus seemed to sense Sirius’ prolonged gaze, for his eyes fluttered open and his eyebrows quirked in question. 

“Need another light?”

Sirius, whose mouth was suddenly incredibly dry, took a moment to respond. Finally, he found it in himself to say, “no, no, she’s still going strong.” He waved the lit cigarette rather daftly, as proof.

Remus just nodded, an amused half-smile twisting his lips.

The thing about Sirius was, he absolutely could not abide long stretches of silence. It was, he figured, one of the reasons he got interested in comedy in the first place. You could always break up awkwardness in a conversation with a few well-timed jokes. He liked to think he had become quite skilled in breaking the tension (except where his parents were concerned, but that was neither here nor there). In the years since he had become famous, it was a skill he found himself leaning on less and less. He was almost never the one shattering silences anymore, since every other poor sod in the world seemed so determined to shatter them for him (be they awkward gaps in conversation or pleasantly serene Sunday morning coffee runs). But this Remus was seemingly immune to all of that, and indeed looked completely content to stand there smoking in silence for the rest of the night. Sirius was not (content, that is), but he also suddenly found that his mind was completely bereft of a single wry line. He was, in fact, in the very unusual situation (for him, at least) of feeling completely, mundanely, awkward. 

“Er, so how do you know Lily, then?” was the brilliance his mind landed upon. 

Remus finished blowing out his current lungful of smoke, and then said, “We were at Oxford together”.

“Oh, I see.” 

“And you know her from Hogwarts?”

“Yes, that’s right.” How had the conversation already come back to Hogwarts? Sirius felt a nauseous weight settle in his stomach as he waited for Remus to ask him _‘what the hell was that about a chap named Severus?’_

“Lily’s mentioned you lot used to play in a band together. It sounds like a riot.”

Oh, or perhaps not, then. Sirius fumbled around for a reply in the wasteland that was his brain — he hadn’t had _that_ much to drink, had he? — and finally settled on, “Ha, yeah.” 

_Just brilliant, old chap. I don’t know how you do it!_

Remus kindly ignored the fact that the famously debonair and sarcastic Sirius Black was currently grunting through this conversation with all the eloquence of comatose rhino. 

“So what did you play, then? I assume James was on the guitar?”

“Ha, yes. Well, no, actually. James did piano — he’s obviously brilliant on the guitar, too, but it’s the only thing I knew how to play so he let me have it. And then Lily was on drums. Me and Lils wrote the lyrics — or, she wrote the good lyrics and I slipped innuendos in whenever possible — and James did the music.” Sirius could not explain where all the words had come from. He was just hoping Remus wasn’t the sort to go chat with the press, because he really didn’t want to read the headlines when that happened. _‘I smoked with Sirius Black and he told me about all the dirty jokes he wrote at school’._ But Remus really didn’t seem the type, so he banished the thought. 

Remus was just smiling with benign enjoyment. “Ha, I can picture that. It must have driven Lily bonkers.”

Sirius laughed, shaking his head. “I think she secretly loved it. She just needed to uphold the group image and everything. I swear, if me and James had been left to our own devices, we would both be highly successful children’s birthday party performers.”

“Ah, that does sound like Lily,” Remus chuckled. “Although somehow I think you and James would have found your ways, anyway. You are both _moderately_ talented.”

“Moderately talented!” Sirius cried in faux affront.

Remus just laughed, his whiskey eyes glinting merrily in the low light of the alley. 

Sirius leaned back against the wall again, feeling far more peaceful than he had all day. It was oddly serene, standing here with this near-stranger. Sirius couldn’t remember ever feeling so at ease with someone he didn’t know. 

Almost as soon as he had that thought, it was jinxed. The door behind them banged open and Sirius suddenly found himself with an armful of James Potter.

“What’s taking you lot so bloody long! Lily says you had better get your arses back inside or she’ll replace the both of you.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” said Remus calmly. He ground out the remainder of his fag against the brick wall and then tossed the butt in the bin. Then, he pulled the door open and disappeared back into the kitchen. James clapped Sirius on the back and followed on Remus’ heels.

Sirius took one last drag from his cigarette, closing his eyes as willed the smoke to fill his brain and block out every errant thought.

It didn’t really work. Knowing whiskey-coloured eyes glimmered behind his lids. 

He was in deep shit.

**~TBC~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Head over to my tumblr (@miraxb) for additional social media content from the characters! (Or just to ask me questions, nerd out about classics, Russian novelists, and anything else!)
> 
> And please, comment if you feel so moved! Reading them is the best part of my day <3


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12:40am on Monday counts as Sunday, ok?
> 
> ~
> 
> CW for discussions of coming out and unsupportive parents

**Remus**

They had come to the close of their first official week of shooting and Remus had to admit, he hadn’t had so much fun since uni. He generally started his day checking in with the creative teams — approving props and hair designs, consulting with the fight choreographer, and making last-minute dialogue changes with Lily and the script-supervisor, Ellen. Then, mid-morning when the actors finished up with wardrobe and hair and makeup and the shooting day began, he shadowed Lily and made himself available to answer any actor questions or to correct any historical inconsistencies. He had a sneaking suspicion that it was uncommon for the historical consultant to spend so much time directly interfacing with the actors — he had gotten a few surprised looks, and Slughorn had been visibly put out when Remus had pointed out that the film was set in the 12th century BC, and so it was highly unlikely that Agammemnon would drink out of a Svarvoski-crystal encrusted chalice. But Lily insisted she wanted him as involved as possible, and since she was the boss, he let any other criticisms roll off his back. 

What surprised Remus the most about working on set, though, was just how many friends he found himself making. Living with Marlena and Dinah was honestly wonderful — Dinah sensible and patient, Marlena dramatic and blindingly efficient. Marlena was also proving to be an excellent cook, and the three of them ate dinner together most nights. She was also quite the coffee connoisseur, and had brought her own french press with her (“You can never trust these crew apartments when it comes to cooking supplies, darling”). She and Remus drank coffee together in the mornings while Dinah favoured green tea (“There’s quite enough nervous energy in this apartment between the two of you; one of us needs to stay relaxed!”).

As he had suspected, he also got on with Genevieve like a log on fire. She was witty, sharp-tongued, and incredibly perceptive about other people. She could do hysterical impressions: one moment, mincing around self importantly as Slughorn, the next moment looking around in wide-eyed amazement like Elijah. Elijah was proving to be a promising ally on set, as well. He was far more down to earth than many of the actors, genuinely humbled to be working on the project and surprisingly thoughtful about the themes of the film (at least once he had recovered enough from his initial shyness to say a peep in the presence of Lily or Sirius).

And then there was Sirius. He was charismatic and wickedly funny, easily winning over the cast and crew with his irreverent humour and unstuffy intelligence. And yet, Remus couldn’t help but feel that Sirius was holding himself slightly apart from everyone else. He wasn’t sure anyone else noticed it, or even if it was just his own imagination. Sirius hadn’t missed a single group mealtime since that one lunch on the first day of rehearsal. He regularly organised end-of-day drinks — never failing to pick up the tab at the end of the night — and proved himself equally as willing to chat with the poor sod holding up the boom mic as he was with his fellow leading actors. However, when Remus watched him in the quiet moments — waiting for Lily and Alice to agree on a camera angle, or sitting in the makeup chair at the start of the day — there was a certain shuttering that took place behind his eyes, as if he were carefully sealing part of himself away. The effect grew more pronounced whenever the topic of conversation turned to family: it was the only time that Sirius seemed to fade out of the conversation entirely.

_ Or maybe, Lupin, you’re just hacked off because he’s not singling you out at all. _

After the fag they had shared on the night of the group dinner, Remus had gotten his hopes up. He had — well, he had flattered himself that he had peered beneath Sirius’ suave, celebrity veneer. He had flattered himself that Sirius had even opened up to him, a touch. The weeks since had proven this to be mere fantasy. Sirius treated Remus with the same courtesy and good humour as he did everyone else on set, but never with anything more. And sometimes, Remus couldn’t help but notice, actually a bit less. It was nothing glaringly obvious, but Sirius never seemed to hold eye contact with him when he gave his historical accuracy notes, and he always seemed to skip over Remus when handing around end-of-the-day handshakes and pats on the back.

It didn’t help Remus’ idiotic fixation that Sirius had the utter gall to look unaccountably excellent in his blond Achilles wig. Remus had been of the (now obviously foolish opinion) that even Sirius Black couldn’t pull off a curly golden wig. What he had failed to account for, it seemed, was that this was no Party City monstrosity. It looked natural and flowing, and even had a somewhat naturalistic part. Once his eyebrows had been slightly lightened by the makeup team (they kept them dark in colour, lightening them to a rich brown instead of their usual stark black) he could have passed as a natural blond. The hair colour set off his tan skin beautifully and brought out the blue in his grey eyes. It was completely unfair. 

As distracting as the presence of Sirius Black was, Remus did not allow himself to get lost in pining. He was forging new friendships, after all, and his social calendar was suddenly busier than it had been in years. Genevieve, it was revealed, was something of a party animal, and had done quite a bit of research on local nightlife. While Remus was not generally someone who enjoyed clubs or staying out late or getting plastered or anything else that nightlife generally encompassed, he was leaning into the novelty of the summer and trying to say “yes” to as many things as he reasonably could. That was why tonight he found himself at the only gay bar on the island, celebrating the end of the week with Genevieve and Elijah.

Remus and Elijah were currently standing at the bar, watching as Genevieve danced sensuously with two shirtless men.

“Of the three of us, I should’ve known Genevieve was going to be the one to get the most attention here,” Remus observed wryly. “She certainly has that magnetism.”

Elijah looked morose all of a sudden. “Do  _ you  _ like her?”

Remus glanced at Elijah in surprise. “What? No, Elijah, I’m gay.”

Elijah blushed. “Oh, that’s… I mean, that’s cool.”

“Oh, ta very much.”

Elijah gaped at Remus, looking horrified. “I didn’t mean — I just mean, I am… I am too. So it’s cool that you’re, you know, also… that.”

“Elijah, I’m kidding,” Remus said, laughing. “I knew that.”

Elijah looked panicked. “You did? Does everyone know?”

“No, no, I’m sure they don’t. It’s just one of those things you learn how to spot, innit?”

“I suppose.” Elijah still seemed uncomfortable.

“Is it a problem if people can tell?” Remus challenged.

“I mean…” Elijah was flushing, looking horribly uncertain. Remus decided to put him out of his misery. He could remember all too easily what it felt like to be in the younger man’s shoes.

“If you’re not ready for people to know, no one has to. It doesn’t mean you don’t have pride, to want to keep it to yourself a bit longer.”

Elijah shook his head earnestly. “It’s not that. I do want people to know — I’ve been out to my parents for years, and they’ve always been great about it — it’s just, you know, this is my first big job. I don’t really want to, to, you know, lose my career before it’s even started.”

Ignoring the twisting of his stomach that occurred at the mention of supportive parents, Remus considered Elijah’s words. He wanted to brush aside the concerns, to remind the younger man how progressive the industry was. But he wasn’t so naive as all that. Even as a near-outsider to the film industry, he had to concede that Elijah’s fears weren’t unfounded. Elijah seemed to misread the unhappy expression on Remus’ face, however, because he plowed ahead with more explanations.

“It’s like — I know I could still work if people knew. I know that. But this is my first job, right? And it’s a queer movie, which is amazing, but I feel like if people know that I’m gay, I’ll only every get to be in queer movies. And I’ll never have a shot at mainstream success. And like, maybe that’s dumb, but I really want that. Mainstream success, I mean. Like, I don’t want to be pigeonholed or whatever.” His eyes were boring into the tiled bar, and even in the dim atmospheric lighting of the club, Remus could see the flush in his cheeks. He felt his chest tighten a little at the sight.  _ Just another young man terrified of what the world is going to do to him. _

“Elijah, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I understand, honestly.” Elijah looked up, the vulnerability in his gaze nearly unbearable. “I promise, I understand.”  _ God, how he understood. _

Elijah finally looked a little relieved. He exhaled a long breath, ran a hand through his curly hair, and glanced at the dance floor, where Genevieve was now dancing nose-to-nose with a very pretty blond woman. He peeked back at Remus, an entirely new kind of nervousness stamped across his face. 

“You wanna go dance?” he asked hopefully.

“Alright,” said Remus. He knocked back the rest of his whiskey and headed for the dance floor, Elijah hot on his heels. 

~

The next morning at breakfast, Marlena was peering over the top of her coffee cup in an especially smug fashion.

“Late night last night, hmmm Remus?”

He paused in the act of preparing his own coffee, glancing at Marlena in concern.

“Was I too loud coming in? I tried to keep quiet.”

She waved him off. “You were fine, I was awake anyway. But I must admit, I had rather hoped to meet your friend this morning. Did he leave very early?”

Remus choked on his first sip of coffee. “Pardon?”

“Now, now, Remus. No coyness at my table, please. Was he good?”

Remus cleared his throat. “He was just fine, thank you. And he left last night. I wasn’t sure you and Dinah would be thrilled with… an overnight guest.”

This was only partially true. Yes, Anton had left as soon as they were done with their admittedly rather drunken and sloppy fun, but at the time, Remus hadn’t even been thinking about the existence of his flatmates. Even drunk as he was, he had had the wherewithal to know that if he had to look into the man’s hazel eyes in the harsh light of day, the only thing he would be able to think about was the fact that they were absolutely  _ not _ grey. And the implications of that realisation were not something he was willing to deal with on his first day off in two weeks. Or ever, really, if he had any say in the matter. 

Marlena seemed to know Remus was speaking in half-truths, but she mercifully chose not to press the matter. She simply gave him a knowing smile and said, “This is your home as much as ours, Remus. Have any guests you please.” She then wandered back into her bedroom, leaving Remus alone with a rapidly cooling cup of coffee and an unwelcome swirl of emotions that he couldn’t entirely chalk up to his burgeoning hangover. 

Fortunately, he was only left to his own devices for a few minutes. Lily, with her characteristic impeccable timing, called him as he was weighing the pros and cons of getting up and making himself toast. 

“Lils?” He croaked.

The laugh that filtered through his mobile revealed that Lily had had a much more wholesome night than he, and that she was not above rubbing that fact in. 

“Hi Rem. I was going to say, ‘Good morning’, but I think it might be wasted on you.”

“You might be right,” he replied, wincing at the continued hoarseness of his voice. Why hadn’t he thought to drink  _ water _ last night?

“Well, fancy a little hair of the dog? James and I were hoping you’d come over tonight, maybe toast the first week with us.”

“Oh, yeah. That sounds nice, actually.” It did sound nice. Lily had been so busy since they’d arrived in Malta, Remus felt like he had barely had a conversation with her since that first day in her trailer. 

“Great! Be here at six. I’ll send you the address — it’s only a short walk outside of town, so I don’t think you’ll need a cab. Unless, do you want James to swing by and pick you up?”

“No, no, that’s fine. A walk will probably do me some good. Should I bring anything?”

“No, just your lovely self!” she trilled. 

“Cheers, Lily. I’ll see you at six.”

“Drink water, love!”

She rang off before he could give a snarky reply. It was for the best, really, since Remus couldn’t have mustered a clever word at that moment if his very life depended on it.

~

That evening at the very stroke of six, Remus rang the doorbell of Lily’s rather ostentatious villa. He was fairly certain James had been left in charge of choosing their rental, because he couldn’t really see Lily going for anything with columns. This, and every other thought, fled Remus’ mind when the door was pulled open. Because, standing on the other side of the doorway was none other than Sirius Black.

“Remus! Glad you could make it!” Sirius was grinning at him with his trademark smile, exuding charm and humour and something else completely unknowable. 

“Er, hi. This is Lily and James’ place, right?”

Sirius laughed. “Yes, yes. We’re all staying together. Come on in!” He stepped back to make room for Remus.

Remus stepped inside, shaking his head internally. Had Lily mentioned this arrangement earlier? And if she had, how could Remus possibly have forgotten? Suddenly, the relaxing evening of wine and familiar friends that Remus had envisaged disappeared. It was obvious now that very little about this night would be relaxing in the slightest. 

Lily was already waiting in the entrance hall, shaking her head in good natured exasperation. “Sirius, I told you to let me get the door!” She strode forward and pulled Remus into a hug. “Hi, handsome. Glad to see you’re still alive.”

“Ha, ha. I was barely hungover. You just caught me before my coffee had kicked in.”

Lily did not look like she believed this for one moment, and Remus cursed her powers of perception for the millionth time. She turned back to Sirius. 

“Pads, can you show Remus out to the back patio? I’m just going to check on James.” At that moment, the loud sound of James’ voice bellowing curses emanated from the kitchen, accompanied by Harry’s high-pitched giggle and the clanging of pans. Lily was dashing back in that direction before Sirius could so much as nod his head. He glanced wryly over at Remus.

“Come this way, then. James is making butter chicken, which… let’s just say I’d rather be outside the house when the fire alarms start going off.”

Smirking at the perturbed look on Remus’ face, Sirius turned on his heel and led Remus through the front hall, underneath the sweeping staircase, across a dazzlingly all-white living room, and through a pair of French doors. The back patio was lush and green, tiled with terra cotta and furnished with yet more white chairs and a table. There was also a swimming pool, and beyond that, a beautiful view of the island. Remus let out a low whistle. 

“James’ hasn’t held back a bit, has he?”

“Oh, no,” Sirius replied, looking oddly embarrassed. “I’m the one who chose the rental. Is it too much?”

Now it was Remus’ turn to feel embarrassed. “No, no, it’s grand. Just, you know, bit more than I’m used to. Not that that’s hard to achieve, or anything.” He chuckled lamely. 

“Right,” Sirius countered awkwardly. “Erm, whereabouts are you staying, then?”

“Just a flat in town. I’m sharing with Marlena and Dinah.”

“Who?”

“The costumes and props mistresses.”

Sirius looked, if possible, even more awkward at this. “God, you must think I’m such a bloody cliche narcissistic actor. Not even knowing the names of the crew.”

Remus shook his head quickly. “No, no, not at all. There’s a lot to remember, after all.”

James laughed from behind them — Remus hadn’t even heard the door re-opening. “No, Sirius is right. He is a bloody cliche narcissistic actor. But we still love him!” He stepped past Remus to throw an arm around Sirius’ shoulder, mussing his hair with his other hand. 

Sirius grimaced, but leaned into James’ embrace. Looking at the two of them, it was very easy to forget that one of them was a celebrated actor and the other a Grammy-winning musician. They just looked like two, admittedly very well groomed, best friends. It was different, Remus reflected, to see Sirius in this setting. When he smiled at James, he looked like he really meant it. Remus felt a wave of traitorous jealousy rise up in his stomach; he wanted Sirius to smile at  _ him _ like that. 

Lily once again saved him from himself when she breezed out onto the patio, a smiling Harry on her hip.

“Alright, then. The chicken should be ready in a bit. James, love, weren’t you getting the wine out?” 

James released his hold on Sirius, tossed Remus a wink, dropped a kiss on Harry’s head and Lily’s cheek, and then dashed back inside. Within moments, he had jogged back out, two bottles of wine held easily in one hand (he had a pianists’ hands, after all) and a corkscrew dangling off the pinky of the other. Remus couldn’t help but marvel a little at the sheer energy the man possessed. He supposed it came in handy when he was throwing himself around onstage for two hours straight every night. 

Sirius set to opening the bottles, while James took Harry from Lily’s arms and began tossing him high into the air, catching him perfectly every time. Harry shrieked with glee. Lily, who seemed to have given up on cautioning her husband long ago, turned to Remus and looped their arms together. “Thank god you’re here!” she said to him in a faux-whisper. “Two weeks living with these two together and I’m going absolutely barmy. It feels like being back at school!”

Sirius, who had heard Lily (as was obviously her intention) snorted and shook his head. “Don’t listen to her, Remus! She’d be lost without us.” 

Remus looked away from Lily’s smiling face to grin at Sirius, but the other man’s attention was already elsewhere once again, focused on pouring the freshly-opened wine into glasses. Remus tried not to take it personally. 

Soon, the sparkling wine was flowing in abundance. James and Sirius took turns proposing increasingly preposterous toasts. They started quite sensibly, toasting the production, Lily, Malta, and even the existence of Ancient Greece itself. Soon, though, they were calling out things like, “Horace Slughorn’s mustache!”, and “Minerva McGonagall’s exceptional bosom!”.

Remus turned to Lily on that one — she was the only one out of the four of them drinking moderately, and he thought she might be able to shed some light. 

“Who the bloody hell is Minerva McGonagall?” he asked.

Lily opened her mouth to reply, but it was Sirius who spoke first. He was tossing back the wine with more alacrity than anyone, and was rather thoroughly flushed. 

“Only the most beautiful bloody woman on the planet!” he crowed.

“Hear, hear!” called James. Then, seeming to remember his wife was at the table, tacked on, “‘Cept for you, Lils. Obviously.”

Lily only rolled her eyes, turning to Remus to properly answer his question. “She was the acting professor at school.”

“I see,” said Remus. “Did you and James also do acting in school, then?”

Sirius took it upon himself to answer once again. “Naw, they were never so cool as that. But we all had to take a beginner course with her our first two years. Plus, she was our head of year, so we all got to know her. Some better than others.” He sent James a lascivious wink. James winked back.

Remus laughed. “What was that about?”

Lily rolled her eyes again. “James and Sirius spent rather a lot of time in detention. Which was with your head of year. So they got to know Professor McGonagall rather better than any of us.”

“I see.”

“Now, now, Remus,” said James. “I can see you looking all amused and superior. You mustn't think me and Sirius were any sort of ne'er dwells. We simply had a unique point of view on the functionality of rules.”

“Yeah, and zero bloody tolerance for bigoted plonkers.” That was Sirius. He was now nearly horizontal, having pivoted in his seat and leaned backwards until his upper body was supported by a neighbouring chair. 

Remus sensed Lily stiffening in the chair beside him, but Sirius was clearly too far gone to notice. James, too, had sat up a little straighter. He was looking with concern between Lily and Sirius. Then, without warning, he was leaping to his feet. 

“The chicken!” he cried. “I nearly forgot it!” 

He ran inside the house, and Lily began laughing, Sirius soon sitting back up to join her. Remus marveled at James’ elegant maneuvering. If you weren’t paying attention, you could easily discount James Potter as another ludicrous celebrity with a name bigger than his brains. Indeed, back at Oxford, when Remus had first discovered that his friend Lily was seriously dating that punky new music sensation, he had been more than a little appalled. But watching as James deftly avoided conflict between his wife and best mate, Remus could only feel impressed. Underneath the brash rockstar veneer was a kind, observant, and intelligent man. 

“Oh, god, I’m so bloody hungry,” moaned Lily. Harry, who had fallen asleep in her arms a little while ago, awoke and promptly began crying. “And apparently, so is this one.” She stood up with Harry. “I’m going to bring him inside and put him to bed. Will you two be alright till James gets back?”

Remus and Sirius mumbled their assent. Lily made eye contact with Remus, raising her eyebrows in question. Remus rolled his eyes but gave a smile, and Lily went on her way with the squalling Harry. Sirius seemed well on the way to lying back down, but Remus had liquid courage coursing through his veins and wasn’t in the mood to be ignored any longer.

“I really liked your first film, you know?”

Sirius looked up at him in surprise. “ _ Sleeptalking _ ?”

“Yeah. Meant a lot to me when I left home, honestly.”

Sirius didn’t seem to know what to say to that. He just sort of stared at Remus, apparently thinking hard. Remus wasn’t going to make it any easier for him; he just stared back, waiting for Black to speak. Eventually, he did.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “It meant a lot to me too.”

Remus couldn’t hold back a snort at that. “I imagine it did, seeing as it was your big break and all.”

Sirius shook his head earnestly. “No, I mean, the topic, y’know? The character and all.” He exhaled hard, apparently steeling himself. “My parents were never really thrilled I went for acting. ‘Specially not comedy. So I really, y’know, I’spose I was sort of living the experience as I acted it, right? Like, getting away from my parents and leaving behind everything familiar. And, sort of, risking it all, as cliche as it sounds, on this faint whim of an idea that I could make it. Really make it.”

Sirius sat back with his mouth shut, apparently stunned by his own honesty. Remus was stunned too: this was a far cry from the enigmatic celebrity figure he had grown used to over the past two weeks. But he pulled himself together quickly, determined not to lose this opening now that he had it.

“Yeah, it was the same for me,” he admitted. “Obviously, not the acting thing, but, you know, I was leaving home. First in the family to go to uni. Not exactly something my parents were thrilled about. ‘Least not my da.” Remus breathed deep. This next thing, he wasn’t at all sure he was ready to say to Black. But he had promised himself eight years ago that he would never hide himself away again, so he plowed on forward. “And, I had just told them I was gay and all. They weren’t so thrilled with that, either.”

Remus watched Sirius with a challenge in his eyes. It wasn’t as if he really expected Sirius to say anything  _ negative _ — he was best mates with Lily and James after all, he was obviously a good enough sort. But still, there was a certain vulnerability in telling your celebrity —  _ fixation — _ that you were bent in their direction. And Remus had learned long ago to protect vulnerabilities with armour and even sword, if need be. 

A curious assortment of emotions flitted across Black’s face, all quickly wiped clean but not quickly enough to evade Remus’ careful gaze. He tried to tease apart the different feelings Sirius was hiding just behind his mask of insouciance: there was surprise there, certainly. And something that felt like anger, or sadness, or some combination of the two. But, just there, glittering behind his eyes like the promising light at the end of a tunnel — what was that? Remus could not name it, and Sirius was now speaking again, so he had no chance to dwell. 

“Sounds like you’re well shot of them.”

Remus laughed in surprise. “That’s what Lily always says, too.”

Sirius cracked a grin. “She always says that about my family, too.” He stopped smiling abruptly, a frown overtaking as if he had just realised how very much he was revealing. 

Pretending not to notice this change in mood (honestly, this man’s moods seemed to change with the wind) Remus continued chuckling. “She likes to take in strays, our Lily.”

Sirius nodded thoughtfully, his serenity apparently returned to him. “I suppose she’s a bit of a stray herself, though.”

Remus looked at Sirius in surprise. He was perfectly right, in his own way, but it was not a perspective he had ever taken on Lily before, and it certainly wasn’t one he had expected to hear from Black. Yet, it was true. Lily came from a fairly poor family, and much like Remus, she had been among the first in her family to get a formal education. While her parents had always been loving, they had never fully understood her drive or her desire for more. And her sister had never really forgiven her for going away to school and leaving her behind in their sleepy town. It was hard to see Lily as anything besides vibrant and sharp and certain, but Sirius was right — there was loss lurking beneath her surface. Just as there was for Remus. And for Sirius, too, apparently. 

“Maybe it’s James, really, who collects the strays, then,” Remus mused.

Sirius was finally smiling again — his warm, genuine smile. His James smile. “Yeah, well James has always had more than enough love to go around. He uses it well.”

The man himself reentered then, laden down with a steaming tureen of curry, his glasses fogged nearly opaque. He lurched a little on the stairs, and Remus leapt out of his seat to take the hot pot from him before it had a chance to become a puddle on the ground. Sirius, who still looked rather loose-limbed with drink, just leaned back in his chair and roared with laughter. James, his glasses still mostly whited out, cuffed Sirius playfully around the head. Sirius made an incoherent sound of outrage, but obviously wasn’t fussed enough to abandon his seat in the name of seeking retribution. Lily came back outside then, too, a baby monitor held in one hand and a stack of plates and utensils balanced adeptly in the other. 

“We might be needing these if we want to actually  _ eat _ the food, James,” she said, depositing the stack in the center of the table. 

James, who had just pulled off his glasses and begun cleaning them on his shirt, beamed at his wife in blurry admiration. “You’re so smart, baby.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but when she sat down next to Remus, he could see that she was also wearing a pleased little smile.

They made quick work of the food, and had put paid to two more bottles of wine by the end of the night. It was past midnight by the time Lily was shoving Remus into his cab (“You are not wandering drunk around the Maltese countryside on my watch, mister”). It was a short drive back to his flat, and Remus was bundled into bed by one in the morning. Checking that his alarm was set for six — Six! This film business was batty! — Remus was making to turn off his phone when he noticed a message waiting for him. 

_ Would you want to maybe get dinner tomorrow night? _

It was from Elijah. Remus hesitated for a moment. Elijah was nice, and dinner even nicer. What harm could it possibly do? Remus shot back a quick  _ ‘I’m in!’ _ , then rolled over and fell promptly to sleep. He dreamt of mercurial grey eyes. 

~

**Sirius**

It was horrible timing to be in such a grumpy mood, but then again, Sirius’ moods had never been the most tactful things. It was Wednesday morning, and they were scheduled to shoot a particularly tender love scene today. And Sirius was just — well, if he was feeling tender, it certainly wasn’t in the kind of way he wanted to immortalise on screen. It was in the ‘ _ please no one look at me because I might explode, but also please, please notice how miserable I am and how much I need a hug _ ’ kind of way. It was the kind of tender that you never really got to be as a figure in the public eye, because everyone would say you were having a strop and that the fame had gone to your head and that you thought you were better than everyone else. And honestly, if Sirius sometimes felt like he was better than everyone else and that his emotions were more interesting and pressing than anyone else’s, it had nothing to do with being famous. It had to do with being Sirius. 

But today, he wasn’t allowed to be Sirius the Man who had big emotions and sometimes really just needed James Potter to hug him into oblivion. Today, he had to be Sirius Black the Actor who was composed and sexy and completely confident. So, he slapped a smile on his face and strode on set and greeted the gaffers by name and asked his makeup artist how her pregnant daughter was doing and chatted with Elijah about the bloody American election as if he actually cared even a little bit what those poor sods across the ocean were doing (alright, he did care a bit, but Not Today). It was all going rather smoothly, and Sirius had even started to think that maybe today wouldn’t be so dreadful after all, when Elijah dropped an absolute bomb on his head.

“Well, Remus said something very interesting the other night, which was that —”

“Remus?” Sirius barked out before he could remember to restrain himself.

Elijah looked mildly confused, but not offended, which was honestly a relief. “Yeah, you know, Remus? The historian on set?”

Sirius, making a valiant effort to school his expression, nodded nonchalantly. “Of course I know who Remus is. You lot’ve been hanging out?”

Elijah flushed all the way down his neck, hesitated for a moment, glanced around to make sure the makeup artist was still off fetching more bronzer, and then leaned in conspiratorially. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

Sirius nodded in what he hoped looked like a relaxed and trustworthy fashion. Inside, his organs had turned to ice. 

“Well, I suppose me and Remus… went on a date, the other night. On Monday.”

“Ah, I see.”  _ I see that there were even greater depths of misery in store for me today _ .

“Please don’t tell anyone — about me, I mean. I don’t really want the whole world to know yet. But,” Elijah turned pinker, if that was even conceivable. “I figured if we’re gonna do this together, like, I ought to be upfront with you about stuff. I mean, we should be able to trust each other.”

Sirius felt himself nod, although he couldn’t really remember making the decision to do so. 

“Of course I won’t tell anyone.” He gritted his teeth into the facsimile of a smile.”That’s great mate, good for you two.”

Elijah visibly relaxed — and just in time, too, since the makeup artist had just returned, Lily directly behind her. It was her habit to check in with them while they were still primping in their chairs, just to give them the lay of the land for the coming shooting day. 

“Hello, gentlemen! How’re we feeling about today?”

“Great!” piped up Elijah, like the arsehole that he was.

“Sirius?” Lily asked, turning to look at him more closely.

“Jolly good,” he managed, his voice horrible and hearty and completely not his own.

If Lily noticed his distress — and who was he kidding, of course she did, she noticed every bloody thing — she didn’t say anything about it.

“Well, good. As this is the first time we’ll be full-nude, I just wanted to let you two know that I’ve reduced the crew to a skeleton, so it’ll just be me, Alice on camera, Trev on sound, Antoni on lights, and Belinda on site for touch-ups. And Ewan of course, in his capacity as AD. Does that sound alright?”

Elijah’s blush was back, but he nodded eagerly enough. Sirius threw in his own curt nod, just so Lily wouldn’t jump on his case again. Lily gave her own efficient bob of acknowledgement, then continued with her run down. 

“Alright. I just want you both to know, you can tell me at any time if you need a break. We’ll have robes on standby, and of course you’ll have modesty socks. My priority — aside from getting this scene done right, of course — is that you both feel comfortable and respected. So speak up if you need to, alright? I promise to listen.”

Elijah looked at Lily adoringly and nodded eagerly. Sirius grunted his assent. Lily gave him a funny look but thankfully let it slide. “Good. Well, I’ll see you both on set in an hour, then.”

She was almost out the door when Elijah, the bastard, opened his fat mouth again.

“Will the, erm, will the historian be on set today?”

Lily’s face contorted in confusion. “Did you want him on set today? I figured the fewer people the better, so I told Remus he needn’t bother coming.”

“Oh, no, that makes sense. I was just, um, curious. But no, that makes sense! Right on!” The man flushed pink  _ yet again _ , which Sirius honestly hadn’t thought was possible. It occurred to him that if Elijah was really interested in keeping his sexuality under wraps, he was doing a very poor job of it. Then he chastised himself; he would allow himself to hate Elijah, but it would not be because the man was bad at staying in the closet. 

Lily took her leave, the door creaking obnoxiously in her wake.

~

Fifty-five minutes later saw Sirius and Elijah on the set that served as Achilles’ and Patroclus’ tent, dressed in beige modesty socks, white terry cloth robes, copious amounts of body makeup, and absolutely nothing else. True to her word, Lily had kept the crew to necessity only, and Sirius had to admit that he appreciated the effort. He had only shot intimate scenes a couple of times, and all in the context of his comedy series; this sex scene carried a lot more gravity and a lot more close ups than he had ever encountered previously. 

Lily, never one to mince around the point, had them staged and ready to go for the first take in a matter of minutes. She had them remove their robes so that Alice and Antoni could get light readings and make sure all the shadows were falling where they wanted them. Then, without further ado, they were jumping directly into the scene. 

The scene they were shooting was meant to take place directly after one of the more intense battle scenes. In the script, it was written as a coming back together: the blissful relief of Patroclus to have his lover back in his arms, the adrenaline-fueled heat of Achilles as he revelled in his glorious performance on the battlefield and the undivided attention of his beloved. 

However, seconds into the first take, it was obvious to everyone in the room that the Achilles Sirius had brought to set that day was not the enchanted, enthused, or blissful young man from the page. This Achilles was hungry. He was angry. He was a man with a bone to pick and something to prove. This was not a tender Achilles, worshipping the ground his lover walked on. No; this Achilles threw all his flaws, all his fear, all his animal instincts at the feet of his lover and said: What now? Do you still desire me now?

Elijah, to his credit, completely ran with it. His Patroclus was watchful, reactive, and equal in hunger. Yes, he was relieved to see his love returned alive and whole from the field of battle, but he also matched Achilles, challenge for challenge. He was saying,  _ ‘Don’t patronise me; I see who you are and I do not flinch away.’ _

Lily let them work it through to the end of the scene, only giving the occasional physical direction, like “flip him over now, Sirius”, and “move down his neck, Elijah”. When she called cut, the set fell silent aside from the heavy breathing of the two actors still laying on the fur mats that comprised the bed. 

Lily walked towards the bed slowly, her brow furrowed in concentration. “That was… certainly a very interesting take, gentlemen.”

Sirius stared her down quietly; if she had notes to give, she could bloody well them. He wasn’t going to do the work for her. Elijah, on the other hand, was tensed up beside him, throwing him an anxious look.

Lily gestured for Ewan to bring forth the white robes, and then pursed her lips before finally continuing. “Can we talk about what you were both thinking and feeling during that take? I want to unpack what was going on, because it was… not what I expected.”

Sirius, who was pulling his robe on lazily, gave Lily a short nod. His earlier tension and frustration were still very much in evidence, but so was a new certainty. As incidental as it may have been, he had come to the realisation that this pent up, hostile person was as much a part of Achilles as the golden boy of scenes previous. And he was ready to fight for his character. Elijah seemed on edge as he pulled his robe on, but he was holding steady. At the very least he wasn’t dissolving in the face of Lily’s intense focus, which was not something that could be said of many a weaker man.

“Sirius, tell me. What’s going on for Achilles in this scene?”

Sirius fixed his gaze on Lily. “Achilles is angry. He’s frustrated. He’s tired. He’s living and breathing a world that his closest confidant knows nothing about. He’s fighting and killing on the battlefield everyday, and then coming home to someone who has never seen bloodshed on the same level. He’s pent up, and he doesn’t know how to let it go.”

“So it’s an issue of differing experience? That’s what’s being reconciled here?” Lily didn’t appear to be challenging his interpretation, merely prodding at it. Checking it for leaks. 

“Yes.” Sirius jutted out his chin, waiting for Lily to disagree.

“I think you’re right,” she said. Sirius’ mouth dropped open in shock, but he recovered it quickly, unwilling to be seen as anything less than entirely certain. Lily continued: “But I’m wondering, is there another layer here? Is Achilles only angry? Frustrated?” She looked at him long and hard, as if willing him to read her mind, to guess her next thought. But what flooded Sirius’ mind next wasn’t new inspiration for the motivations of Achilles. It was Remus: Remus’ face when he took in the splendor of the rented villa; Remus’ expression as he spoke about his unsupportive family; Remus’ impenetrable, cold stare as he waited for Sirius to respond after he disclosed his sexuality. And Sirius realised — 

“No, not just angry. He’s… Achilles is scared. He’s scared that... that if Patroclus could see everything that he was — everything that he had to become, fighting out there — he’s scared that Patroclus wouldn’t be able to love him anymore. That he would be repulsed. Achilles is scared of being repulsive. He’s daring Patroclus to stop loving him.”

Lily had a triumphant gleam in her eye. She was — well, if Sirius had to name the look on her face, he’d say she was proud. The moment didn’t last long, however; she was soon businesslike again, turning to address Elijah.

“And Patroclus? How does he receive Achilles in this scene? What does he feel about this bloodshed?”

Elijah was quick in his response: “Patroclus is scared, too. He’s scared Achilles will see him as weak, as cowardly. He knows that he doesn’t understand Achilles’ world, and the distance growing between them scares him, too.”

Lily was nodding, her face taut with focus. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Elijah said, his voice gaining in confidence. “He’s — I think Patroclus is worried about who Achilles has become. He’s never… he’s never seen Achilles as an angry person before. The anger, the bloodlust — it’s frightening.”

“So what’s his goal, here?” Lily interrogated.

Elijah breathed deep, then answered: “Patroclus… he isn’t gonna back down. And he’s showing Achilles that; that he’s not backing down. That’s his goal here: he’s proving himself a worthy partner.”

Lily pursed her lips meditatively for a few moments. Sirius watched her attentively; he knew what Lily Evans Potter looked like when she was making a decision, and this decision, he surprised himself to recognise, mattered to him more than most. Finally, she spoke.

“Ok. I think you two know your characters by this point. I think you’re both on to something. Let’s do this again. And I want to see everything you just said, alright? I want to see it all.” She glared at them, as if to say,  _ ‘Or else’ _ . Sirius got the message. 

Lily glanced around the set. “Anyone need any time for adjustments? HMU, are we set?” She received a smattering of responses in the negative, and a hearty thumbs-up from Belinda the makeup artist, so she stepped back next to the camera and allowed Sirius and Elijah the time to shed their robes and prepare themselves for the next take.

“Camera rolling?” 

“Rolling,” called Alice.

“Sound speeding?”

“Speeding,” replied Trevor.

“Alright, scene twenty-three, take two, ACTION!”

Ewan clapped the boards together in front of Alice’s lens, and Sirius lets Achilles take him over once again.

_ Achilles, finally stripped of his armour, strides across the room towards Patroclus. He pulls his partner forward hungrily, kissing him with the same vigorous, lusty appetite that had carried him across the battlefield in search of enemy blood. _

_ Patroclus pulls away for a moment, holding Achilles back with a hand against his heaving chest. He gives Achilles a hard look, cataloguing his overblown pupils and his sweat-dark hair. Then he surges forward, recapturing Achilles’ lips in a searing, forceful kiss.  _

_ Walking them both towards the bed, Patroclus continues to devour Achilles’ lips. He twists a hand through the damp golden hair, the other hand gripping Achilles’ jaw in order to control the shape of the kiss. Upon reaching the pile of sleeping mats, Patroclus drops to his knees, pulling Achilles down to the ground with him.  _

_ Achilles tries to climb on top of Patroclus, but Patroclus pushes him off once again. A look of fear darts across Achilles face, but it is quickly replaced by a hard determination. He wrestles with Patroclus, forcing him onto his back, straddling the lithe, dark-haired man between his legs. He leans down and begins a passionate crusade against Patroclus’ neck, sucking the tender skin there with the full expectation that it will be mottled with purple bruises come morning.  _

_ Patroclus moans in satisfaction, but he does not relent in his struggle for dominance. In a move that comes jarringly easily to the slim, usually quiet man, he flips himself and Achilles over, coming to a rest atop his shining, muscled chest. He pulls back to take in Achilles’ expression, but all there is to see is wide, awed eyes and a spit-slick, hungry red mouth. He leans in again, this time easing Achilles legs up and over his shoulders. Starting at the ruby mouth, he works his way across Achilles’ tense jaw, down his straining neck, and then over his smooth chest. He makes his way lower and lower, Achilles pulling senselessly at his curly brown hair and moaning obscenities into the still, muggy air.  _

“Cut!” cried Lily. Sirius and Elijah pulled apart, each lying back on the bed with a heaving chest and a mind struggling to return from a smoky campsite several millennia away. 

“That,” Lily said, her eyes hard and blazing as they swept over her exhausted actors, “was bloody amazing.”

Alice gave a long, low whistle from her spot behind her camera, and Trev laughed lecherously as he finally rested the boom pole across his broad shoulders.

Lily looked around the room, taking in the faces of her sparse crew. “Everyone, let’s reset. We’ve got to grab a couple more angles.”

Sirius, still half lost in Achilles’ lust-soaked mind, steeled himself. One of these days, he couldn’t help but think, Achilles was like not to fit back into his box at all.

~

They wrapped early that day, Lily declaring herself “beyond satisfied” with the shots they’d managed to get. She pulled Sirius aside before he could escape back to his trailer.

“I don’t know what that was today, Black. But don’t let it tear you apart. We love you too much for that.” 

Sirius lurched backwards, giving Lily a wary look. She gave him only a grim smile in response, then continued. “And for chrissake, be sure to bring whatever it was back with you tomorrow! Achilles was on bloody fire today.” 

She turned and walked away without another word, leaving Sirius to his teeming thoughts.

~TBC~

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for bumping my tumblr one last time: @miraxb
> 
> Check it out for character social media extras, midnight musings, and general tomfoolery.
> 
> And if you have a moment, please comment! I want to know what you think! Are the forays in Achilles/Patroclus dynamics too weird? Is the burn too slow? Is Harry too cute (answer: yes). Plus, it makes my Labrador happy when I'm happy, which should honestly be reason enough in and of itself.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to stop making promises about when I'm going to publish.... Sorry, folks.
> 
> See end notes for content warnings!

**Sirius**

The rest of the week went from bad to worse for Sirius. Lily’s words reverberated in his head: _‘Bring that back with you tomorrow. Achilles was on bloody fire today.’_ And bring it back he did, until Achilles was thundering around hot-headedly in every scene, seething and always on the verge of an explosion. Lily, enthused at first to see this new take, was quickly growing tired of reminding Sirius that “this is still a love story, Sirius”, and “Jesus Christ we do still want the audience to like Achilles, don’t we?”

Elijah’s Patroclus tried to keep pace with this furious new Achilles, but it was not in the nature of the actor nor the character to react with anger and force, and he was soon floundering in most scenes. 

Remus watched silently from his post beside Lily, still fielding the occasional question from an actor or artist, but mostly just observing, his face revealing nothing. Sirius had become such a blackhole for energy on the set that was hardly space for concerns like historical accuracy.

By lunchtime on Friday, Lily had had enough. 

“Sirius!” she called from outside his trailer. He had stopped joining the rest of the group for meals, unable to bear watching Elijah taking the seat beside Remus every time without fail. Besides, his tempers on set had been so brutal in the past few days, no one had any interest in talking to him anymore, anyway. Genevieve, the actress playing Briseis, had actually rolled her eyes at him this morning when he stood sullenly to the side between takes. Half of him had wanted to respond in kind, and the other half had withered in shame. He compromised by continuing to stare into the distance, frowning. 

“Sirius!” she yelled again. “I know you’re in there! Get your arse out here!”

Sighing hugely, he hauled himself up from the sofa and stomped over to the door, making sure the floor rattled so that Lily would be able to sense his displeasure. _If you’re gonna do the diva act_ , he figured, _may as well do it right._

Pushing the door open, he blinked into the bright sunlight and the absolutely livid face of Lily Evans Potter. Her cheeks and nose were burned pink by the sun, and her hair was a riot of tangles in the humid air, but standing there staring him down, she was just about the most frightening thing he had ever seen. 

“Right,” she growled. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you’re butchering the film and making enemies out of everyone. You are completely abandoning your scene partners out there, and I don’t even think you were trying to act on that last take when you spat at Horace’s feet.”

Sirius avoided her gaze. He knew she was right. Hearing his behaviour narrated back to him, he was a little stunned by his own wretchedness. Lily must have seen something of his shame on his face, because when she spoke again, her voice had gentled.

“You’re going to take the rest of the day off, and you’re not to return to the set until Monday.”

“You can’t do that! I’m in nearly every scene, you’ll get behind schedule!”

“We’re already behind schedule, you arse! We haven’t shot anything usable since Wednesday. You’re wasting everyone’s time and everyone’s energy. So get out of here, get your head on straight, and we’ll catch up next week when we have our lead actor back. Understood?”

Sirius, still too furious and ashamed to utter a word, gave a curt nod. 

Lily nodded back. “I’ve called James, he’s going to swing by with Harry.”

Sirius found his voice again at that, the injustice of it too much to let slide. “Lily! I don’t need a fucking babysitter!”

“Yes you bloody well do, Black!”

She turned on her heel and was storming off before he could say another word. Sirius felt all the fight go out of him, his legs buckling. He sank down to sit on the steps of his trailer, his head in his hands. Spoiling this opportunity for himself — well, he didn’t want to, but it certainly wouldn’t be the first time his ruddy emotions outpaced his brain. But spoiling it for Lily? That wasn’t something he could live with. He needed to find a way out of this hole.

“Hey there, Padfoot.”

It was James, pushing Harry along in a covered pram. Looking at the pair of them from between his fingers, he felt another tsunami of shame wash over him. Here James was, putting his entire career on hold to be a stay-at-home dad so Lily could follow her dreams. And here he was, letting a temper tantrum ruin all of it anyway.

“Come on, give us a hug.”

Sirius still didn’t move. He didn’t deserve a hug. James deposited the stroller at the foot of the stairs — Harry was watching Sirius with bright curiosity from the inside — then wedged himself onto the staircase next to Sirius and wrapped him in a tight, sweaty hug.

“Gerroff!”

“Not a chance.”

Sirius struggled for another moment, but gave up quickly. The only person more stubborn than Lily was James. _Oh god, Harry was going to be a nightmare one day_. 

The two men sat there for a few minutes, until Harry grew tired of being ignored and began fussing from his carriage. James leapt down and unbuckled Harry, then turned around and deposited him into his godfather’s arms. Finally, Sirius felt his heart rate begin to slow again. Lily could reason with him and James could wrap him in hugs and affection, but nothing was quite so effective at calming Sirius Black down as the warm scent and the velvety feel of the miraculous little boy currently smiling contentedly in his arms. 

James sat patiently beside him as he slowly inhaled and exhaled the lovely smell of Harry’s head. Then, when Harry started fussing again, he gently eased his son from Sirius’ arms and started bouncing around in little circles.

“Could you grab a bottle from the nappy bag?” he asked Sirius over his shoulder.

Sirius stood up and rummaged in the black bag slung over the back of the pram.

“It’ll be in the blue cooler,” James added.

Sirius pulled out the blue cooler bag, unzipped it, and finally emerged with the nursing bottle. He handed it to James, who offered it to Harry, who quieted down and began sucking greedily on the rubber teat.

“Cheers, Pads,” said James.

Sirius only shrugged. Now that the rage had faded, he was left with an exhausted sort of fear. What if he couldn’t get back into the cast’s good graces? What if he had irrevocably spoiled Lily’s shoot? What if the press found out and everyone started talking about what an arse he was? 

_I’d deserve it_.

“Let’s get out of here, eh? I’m sick of hanging around in this manky trailer park.”

Sirius shrugged again, and James led the way off the lot and into his waiting rental Jeep. Sirius climbed into the passenger seat while James got Harry buckled up in the back. By the time James had gotten into the driver’s seat, Sirius was hooking up his mobile and choosing an album to play. He went with Fugazi’s _Thirteen Songs_ , and soon he and James were both belting along with MacKaye about impatience and time and the apathy of humanity. If James noticed that the music was a ploy to avoid further conversation, he made no mention of it, simply vocalising along with the restless base track. Harry, who was used to this kind of music (and who was wearing the sound-muffling fluffy earmuffs that James kept in the car for just such occasions), babbled along happily from his carseat. 

So wrapped up in the music was he, Sirius didn’t notice at first that James was driving them in the wrong direction to get to their villa. 

“Jamie, you’re going the wrong way,” he called out above the music.

“Huh?” James shouted back, his eyes bright with mischief. He turned up the sound dial. “Sorry, I can’t hear you, the music’s too loud!” They kept driving along the dusty roads of the island, often coming right up against the golden cliffs’ edges, from where they could see the turquoise water glittering far below. The final track on the album had just started by the time James pulled off onto the shoulder, and he cut the engine while MacKaye was still screaming the second chorus.

“Oy, Potter, we don’t stop in the middle of songs in this house!”

James looked at him in surprise. “Ready to talk, are we?”

Sirius glowered.

“The song’s a downer, Pads. Come on, we’ve got better things to do.” He climbed out the car and made for the boot, looking over his shoulder to call, “Unbuckle Haz, will ya?”

Sirius threw open his door and landed on the dusty earth with a forceful thump that rippled up his shins and jarred his knees. He slammed the door behind him, but then made himself pause. He was not going to approach his godson with anything but gentleness. James, the scoundrel, had probably banked on that when he delegated the job to Sirius. 

Pulling open the back door, he leaned over to tug the pink earmuffs off Harry’s tiny shell-like ears. Harry plucked the muffs from his hand and started waving them about, giggling madly.

“Now, now Haz. I can’t very well unbuckle you if you keep on swinging those fists around like a madman!”

Harry only laughed harder, leaning forward in an attempt to get the tiny muffs onto Sirius’ head. Sirius helped him to ease the pink band around his forearm, instead, shaking it about so that Harry could see the pompoms now swinging down his wrist. 

“Can we get you out of here now, hmm?” Sirius asked.

Harry finally let Sirius unclip the many harnesses strapping him into his chair, and then scoop him up and turn around. They found James waiting behind them, a bright green baby bjorn held in his arms.

“Ready to go for a ride, monster mine?”

Harry clapped his hands gleefully, and Sirius carried him over to help James ease him into the carrier and then strap the carrier onto his back.

“What exactly are we doing here?”

James grinned at him, and then gestured at a faded wooden sign barely visible from the roadside. Carved into it, in both Maltese and English, were the words “Dingli Cliffs Trailhead”.

“We’re going for a hike.”

~

They had been hiking for nearly ninety minutes, the sun beating down on them and the water below shimmering invitingly. The trail seemed to just keep climbing and climbing, zig-zagging its way through the brush and grass but never straying far from the cliff edge.

“James, how long is this hike, anyway?”

James, who had switched Harry round to his front in order to give the sweat on his back a chance to dry, kept walking and muttered something that Sirius couldn’t quite make out.

“Come again?” Sirius pushed.

“About ten kilometres,” James said more clearly this time.

Sirius stopped walking. “Ten. Bloody. Kilometres.”

James finally stopped and turned to look at Sirius. “You have a problem with that, Pads?”

Sirius glared at James. “I will do if you tell me you actually took me on a blazing ten kilometre walk in my good trainers and without any water!”

James just looked at him, saying nothing. 

“Fuck’s sake, Potter, aren’t you meant to be a dad now? Aren’t you supposed to remember things like water?”

Sirius was gaining momentum now. All the rage from the set was beginning to build back up inside him. He wanted to hit James in his dopey, unbothered face. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run all the way back to the film lot and give bloody Elijah a piece of his mind. James still wasn’t saying anything.

“Why’d you pick me up from the set, anyway? What’s any of this got to do with you? Did bloody Lily call you up and tell on me? Is this my punishment? Dehydrating to death on these godforsaken cliffs?” He was getting louder and louder, and he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. Even though Harry was there. Even though James wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s not my fault everyone bloody wants me to fail, anyway! It’s not my fault everyone is just waiting for me to crack up! And it’s certainly not my fault that my scene partner is a bloody incompetent, bloody, bloody…” — he knew what he wanted to say about Elijah, but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t — “donkey-face,” he finished lamely.

James slid his sunglasses down and gave Sirius a triumphant look. “Feels good to get it off your chest, huh?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. James Bloody Fleamont Fucking Potter. He felt himself smiling a little in spite of everything. 

“You bastard,” Sirius said, his voice finally devoid of any heat or threat. “You did bring water, didn’t you?”

James smirked. “Check your rucksack.”

Sirius swung off the rucksack that James had made him put on before they left the car, and found that inside were three bottles of water, two energy bars, a tin of mashed carrots for Harry, and a tube of suncream. 

“I’m a dad now, Pads. I _always_ come prepared.” He pushed his sunglasses back up his nose and made to turn around and continue walking.

“Wait a second,” Sirius called.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s sit down. Take a break. Enjoy the view, or whatever it is that nice, normal people do.”

James grinned a wide, pleased smile and trotted back over to Sirius. Together, they walked off trail a bit till they came to the rock outcropping where they could sit down and lean back against the cliff face, their feet thrown out in front of them, and the only thing ahead leagues and leagues of water. James, Harry still strapped safely to his chest, pulled out the suncream and started dabbing a fresh coat onto the little boy’s chubby cheeks. They sat in shared silence for a few moments, listening only to the sounds of the birds and the breaking of the waves far below. Then James spoke softly,

“No one wants you to fail, Pads. I promise.”

“Yeah, right,” Sirius huffed humourlessly. “You’ve seen the headlines, same as me. _‘Can Sirius Black Hack Drama?’, ‘Has Fame Gone to Black’s Head?’, ‘Why Can’t Sirius Black Hold Down a Girlfriend?’_ There are whole magazine readerships out there just waiting for me to implode. And you should see how they treat me on set — every time I so much as smile at someone, or remember the ruddy Best Boy’s name, everyone looks astounded and impressed. It’s like they expect me to be a monster.”

“Well, you certainly gave them what they were hoping for! I hear you actually made Elijah cry yesterday?”

“That wasn’t my fault! I was just getting sick of taking the scene over and over because he couldn’t bloody get into character.”

“From what I heard, Sirius, it wasn’t him who kept losing the plot.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad to hear Lily’s been tattling,” Sirius sneered.

“Oh, grow up! We’re not in school anymore, Pads! She’s my wife, not the bloody prefect. And this whole lashing-out when your freaked out thing stopped being cute about ten years ago.”

These words hit Sirius like a truck. _Oh, christ_. That dreadful, terrified, miserable gloom was rising back up inside him, chilling him even in the burning sun. 

“I don’t know what to do, Jamie. I don’t mean for these things to happen.” Horribly, he felt tears welling up in his throat.

“Oh, Pads,” James wrapped an arm around him again, squeezing tight. “I know, I know.”

“Do you think… d’you think I’ve ruined everything?”

“Oh, no, not really. Not irreparably. Lily wouldn’t let it get that far.”

This was comfortingly true. Lily was not likely to let Sirius ruin her entire project just because he was having an extended temper tantrum.

James wasn’t done talking. “Do I think you really need to figure this out soon, though? Yes. Sirius, you gotta talk. To me, to Lils. To anyone you bloody want. But you can’t keep holding it inside ‘til you explode.”

Sirius nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“Would you — would you want me to call Marlene?”

That took Sirius by surprise. “Marlene?”

James looked taken aback by his confusion. “Yes? I figured… I don’t know. You mentioned the headlines about your dating life? And you never really told me why you two split. I figured — well, I don’t know Pads, I figured maybe you were missing her.”

Sirius laughed, he couldn’t help it. Oh, sweet, well-meaning James. He thought the answer to all the world’s troubles was love. Of course he was trying to get Sirius coupled up again.

“What? You liked Marlene! And she was mad about you! Isn’t — I figured the break up was part of what’s been getting you so down.”

Sirius thought about it. The breakup with Marlene hadn’t really been all that upsetting — or at least, it wouldn’t have been, if it weren’t for the final words she had said to him at the end of her “I’m breaking up with you” speech. 

_“You deserve to be happy, Sirius. And I deserve to be with someone who actually wants to be with me. So I’m going to go find someone who isn’t at war with himself. And you… Sirius, I don’t think you need to be scared of people’s reactions. I really don’t think the people who matter would care at all.”_

He had pretended not to know what she meant, and she had given him a long, sad look and walked out of the restaurant. He had fed James some guff about “the timing not being quite right” and let the press do their thing. But he knew what she meant. And he wasn’t sure what scared him more: the fact that someone had seen through him so transparently, or the implications of what she was suggesting. As if it was that simple, as if he could just — just tell people, and be done with it, and everything would be fine.

So maybe James wasn’t so far off the mark, after all. Because he wasn’t pining for Marlene, but their breakup had certainly sparked a reckoning for him. For the first time, someone had said, _‘you can’t go on like this’_ , and now Sirius, forced to confront the truth in that, was left asking, _‘so what’s next?’_

And now here he was: working on an interesting, relevant, career-revolutionising project with one of his best friends in the entire world, and he was ballsing it all up because — because what? Because he was starting to resent this life he had built for himself, and all of the challenges it carried, alongside its privileges? If he needed a change, there were better ways to go about it than self-sabotage. 

No. Because now that he was letting himself take a look around, now that he was admitting — at least nearly, at least to himself — that he wanted more from the world than he had been letting himself have, he saw all that he had been missing. He saw _who_ he had been missing. And would continue missing, so long as he remained afraid. So long as the price felt so insurmountably high. 

It took Harry wailing in his ear to jerk Sirius out of his reverie. He blinked, and saw the imprint of the clouds behind his eyelids. He had been staring into the bright horizon for some time, then. How long, he could not say.

James was now attempting to coax Harry into trying the mashed carrots, and Harry was refusing enthusiastically. There were seemingly more carrots splattered across James’ glasses than had ended up in Harry’s mouth. 

“Let me try?”

James looked up at Sirius in surprise, but he recovered quickly. “Better you than me,” he said. He transferred Harry to Sirius’ lap, and then once he was sure his son was settled, handed over the tin and the spoon. Sirius piled some fresh mash on the spoon, and started moving it slowly towards Harry’s mouth.

“There’s a flying motorbike coming in for a landing, Mr. Haz, sir! We had better open up!”

Harry grinned gummily at Sirius and opened wide, accepting the spoonful with graceful gusto. James groaned in frustration while Sirius laughed in satisfaction and loaded up another spoonful.

“So, er, did you want me to call Marlene, then?

Sirius, who had all but forgotten where his digression had begun, froze the spoon halfway to Harry’s mouth in surprise. Harry, who had apparently decided he liked carrots after all, was leaning forward in an attempt to grab the end of the spoon for himself. Sirius was alerted to this fact by Harry nearly tumbling out of his arms. He resumed feeding (this time holding Harry rather more snuggly than before), choosing his next words carefully. 

“That’s alright, Prongs. You’re right… I think the breakup did a number on me. But, you know, I reckon it was the right choice after all.”

James nodded thoughtfully, and Sirius was grateful that he didn't press for more details. That was one of the wonderful things about James — he never pushed you for more information if he could see you didn’t want to share. With Lily, as soon as she sensed you were holding something back she went for it like a hound after blood. And that was helpful too, sometimes. Necessary, even. But right now, Sirius thought that if anyone prodded him any further, he might just explode. Again. 

“Then I’ll just say this, Padfoot. You obviously don’t have to call Marlene, or anyone else if you don’t want to, but you can’t go on behaving the way you have this week. You know you can’t. So whatever you need to do — and if I can be any help, just let me know — but whatever you need to do, you’re gonna have to do it. Because I know Lily doesn’t want to lose you from this project, but I also know she will if she has to. And I won’t even try to stop her.”

He was staring Sirius down with horrible earnestness. He hadn’t looked at him this way since _that thing_ with Snape. And god, Sirius hoped he never would again. Hoped he’d never give James _a reason_ to again. He was so tired of letting everyone down. If only he bloody knew how to stop.

Sirius gave a diminutive nod, which was really all he could manage at the moment, and James clapped him warmly on the shoulder and clambered to his feet. 

“Let’s be off, then! Miles to go before we sleep, and all that jazz.”

He bent over to relieve Sirius of Harry, then got to resettling Harry into his carrier whilst Sirius tidied everything back into the rucksack. Soon, they were both back on their feet and heading back to the trail. James, as always, took the lead. Sirius found he didn’t mind too much.

~

**Remus**

Remus watched Sirius unravel and felt concerned. Many on the crew seemed unsurprised — it was as if they had been waiting for this, for the big famous actor on the project to grow too big for his britches and start lashing out. But Remus had seen who Sirius was the first two weeks, had spoken to him, had watched him fold in on himself in the quiet moments, and he did not believe that this was a simple case of ego-gone-wild. 

When Sirius had made Elijah cry because he was “so fucking incompetent”, he had been torn. On the one hand, he was a firm believer that when your misery started tugging other people down with it, you had best get a handle on yourself. And he liked Elijah — not quite in the same way Elijah liked him, he had learned to his discomfort earlier in the week — but he thought he was a sweet kid and gifted actor, and he knew that Sirius was way out of line. But when everyone else swarmed around Elijah to comfort him and reassure him, Remus stood back and watched Sirius. And Sirius looked so wretched and upset and lost, and Remus had sort of wanted to scream and make someone notice that Sirius was silently imploding right there in front of them. 

Lily, it seemed, did notice, and she sent Sirius away and made an announcement to the cast and crew that Mr. Black was struggling with some personal issues but that he would be back and ready to work hard on Monday. There was a fair amount of grumbling and eye-rolling on set that afternoon, and Remus had to battle the urge to tell people off when he heard them criticising Sirius. It was embarrassing, really, that he felt so protective of the man. He tried to chalk it up to some sort of over-developed empathy, but he knew, really, that he was still rather infatuated with the man. And it felt unwise to dwell on that too much. 

In the meantime, they shot scenes that Sirius wasn’t in, which boiled down to a lot of conversations between Patroclus and Briseis. Remus tried to enjoy himself — Genevieve and Elijah were both funny, friendly, and very curious about history, which meant he had plenty of distractions to be getting on with. Even so, he missed Sirius’ presence on set. When he was in good form, he was a natural leader: excellent at motivating his colleague during long, trying battle scenes, always eager to improve his form, and never complaining when Lily demanded yet another take. It was painful to see how quickly the rest of the cast and crew seemed to have forgotten these things, in the face of Sirius’ recent poor behavior. 

They had a night shoot on Saturday — a scene in which Patroclus and Briseis go for an insomniac-fuelled walk, and Briseis teaches Patroclus her native tongue and shares stories with him about her childhood in the plains around Troy. At one point, their conversation turns to Achilles, and the relationship between him and Patroclus. Elijah kept stumbling when they got to this bit.

“Um, Lily?” he asked.

“Yes, Elijah?”

“When I say, _‘The Achilles I know is not the man who antagonises Agammemnon and calls himself the hero of all Greece. He is the boy I grew up with, the boy with starlight in his eyes who can find joy in every miniscule facet of the world. And because I love the boy, I recognise that the man is who circumstance sometimes forces him to become. And I have found my peace with that’_ , what exactly is the emotion going on behind it?”

“What’s your first instinct?” Lily asked.

“Well,” Elijah began, “when I was first reading this scene, I felt like it was just — honest, and tender, and maybe a little sad. But mostly just loving and peaceful.”

Lily took this in with furrowed brow. “And now?”

“Well, now, I feel confused. Because, I feel like — I feel like our Achilles is becoming someone else, sort of. So I don’t really know if these words can be, like, honest anymore. Like when I say them now, it feels more like I’m trying to convince myself that they’re true, not so much that they are true.” Elijah looked deeply troubled by this.

Lily nodded slowly. “I can see why you feel that way. But I do think that your first instinct is still the right one.”

“But will that — will that scan with the scenes we shot this week?”

Now Lily looked troubled, too. “We’re going to reshoot some of those.”

“Right. Ok. I just mean — I just mean, what direction do you see Achilles taking? Because, like, when we had that tent scene last week, it made sense that there was this harder edge to Achilles, and to Achilles and Patroclus together. But now when I try to think about the dynamics of our two characters and stuff, I have trouble understanding where to go.” Elijah said all of this very fast, as if terrified that he was going to offend Lily. 

Lily did not seem offended, but she did take longer to respond. Remus recognised the look on her face that meant she was carefully marshalling her thoughts. When she finally responded, she spoke very slowly, staring hard at one of the trees that lined their path.

“We will have to see what Sirius does with the character when he returns on Monday. I can’t answer for him. But from where I’m standing, I think we need to treat that tent scene as more of an outlier. To me, Achilles is someone who splits himself between the realm of duty and the realm of desire and impulse. And that’s a division that gets steadily more difficult for him to maintain as the film progresses. So the tent scene serves as our view into that growing challenge.

“But I also think it’s important to remember that of all people in the world, Patroclus is the one who can remind Achilles of who he is, and what he values. So as far as their dynamic goes, I don’t see the harshness we glimpsed in the tent scene as the norm. And I hope — I hope we will find a way as a group to correct our course on that score.”

When she finished speaking, she finally tore her eyes from the tree and made brief eye contact with each of them standing there, waiting for everyone to give her an indication that they had heard and understood. Elijah nodded, then Genevieve, then Alice behind the camera and all of her supporting crew. Lily looked at Remus, too, and he gave her a swift nod as he felt something unfurl slightly in his chest.

They embarked on a new take, and this time, Patroclus brimmed with a sense of radical acceptance that made Remus feel almost like crying. They didn’t need another take.

~

Despite the late shoot on Saturday — he hadn’t returned to the flat until five in the morning — Remus found himself waking at eight on Sunday. He supposed he had gotten acclimated to the early schedule of the shoot. He wasn’t even that tired. He got out of bed and tiptoed to the kitchen to find Dinah awake and on her laptop. She looked up in surprise when he walked in.

“Remus! What are you doing up so early? Weren’t you on that late shoot last night?”

Remus nodded in agreement, and made his way over to Marlena’s coffee maker. Dinah was still watching him, concern in her eyes. 

“You really ought to get more sleep, hon. You’re burning the candle at both ends.”

Shrugging, Remus said, “I’m honestly fine. I’m used to it. I used to do it all the time in uni.”

Dinah still looked unconvinced, but returned to typing. Equipped with coffee, Remus took the seat across from her and began pondering what he should do with his day. It was marvellously free, his first in a while, and he thought he might finally do some exploring around the island. He’d been so wrapped up in work and new friends, he hadn’t even visited any of the notable local ruins yet. His colleagues at the university would be thunderstruck.

He finished his coffee in one big gulp and leapt up from the table, running around the flat packing his rucksack, and altogether readying himself for a long day spent in the sun. He downloaded a couple of maps onto his mobile and planned out a route for himself that would take him past all the ruins within walking distance. He’d have to plan other trips, maybe with Genevieve or somebody else with a car, to get to the further away ones. 

As he started his walk, he was taken aback by all the other people out and about. It was far busier in the town than he had expected it to be early on a Sunday morning. There were locals, but also a lot of tourists, and he found himself diverging from his planned route in order to avoid some of the more congested streets. Soon, he was navigating through the network of narrow, shady, cobbled side streets that linked up most of the city beyond the main drag. He wasn’t lost — yet — but he also wasn’t exactly _going_ anywhere anymore. Sometimes, he’d catch a glimpse of the roof of some temple he had planned to visit, but he wasn’t much fussed about sightseeing anymore. It was so easy to just lose himself in his thoughts, wandering the ancient alleys, and daydreaming vaguely about living in bygone time. Indeed, he grew so used to the quiet that when the sound of loud voices rang from down the block, he startled and looked around wildly. 

Behind him was a group of people. For a moment, he was certain it was a gaggle of adolescent boys, and a nauseating wave of deja vu swept through him. In the few seconds it took his mind to adjust to the situation, the prickles of panic had already swept all the way up his back and neck. But then he saw that it was just a young family leaving their home to attend church together, and he forcibly relaxed his shoulders. 

_Fuck_. He leaned against the nearest wall, letting the warmth of the limestone seep through his shirt and into his skin. He pressed his sandalled feet into the ground, and looked up at the sky. He stayed like that, breathing deeply, smelling the warm, dusty air, until he had counted the passage of five seagulls across his window of blue. Then he pushed away from the wall and continued his walk.

He tried to recapture the dreamy feelings he’d had before the interruption, but found it difficult. Everytime he tried to direct his mind towards a new fantasy, he’d lose control of the narrative, his mind digging up dark outcomes like a tongue probing the spot where a tooth used to be. 

So he gave up on the wandering and finally found his way to one of the temples he’d been looking for originally. It wasn’t as beautiful as he had hoped it would be. Indeed, it looked rather like every other ruin he’d ever seen. And there were tourists swarming all around it, the air clouded with the shrieks of children and the admonitions of parents, and he grew tired of tensing at every new outburst. 

Disappointed by the turn his day had taken, he trudged towards the beach. Maybe at least looking at the water would be pleasant. He was looking at his feet, counting steps — he’d just reached two hundred and sixty-seven — when he walked directly into something solid. 

“Oof,” grunted the thing. Remus, who’s heart rate had skyrocketed again, looked up quickly to see that the something was actually a someone, and that someone was in fact Sirius Black.

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry.”

Sirius was just staring back at him, surprise etched all over his infuriatingly handsome face.

“Er, did I hurt you? Sorry, I really should’ve been looking where I was going.”

Sirius just stood there, mouth slightly open. It was as if he had just seen a ghost. Remus was readying himself to apologise again — maybe he had disrupted some particular fantastic epiphany Sirius was having, he couldn’t think why else the man would look so thoroughly shocked — when Sirius finally came back to life.

“Oh, no, no. Ah, sorry. No, it’s not your fault. I was, ah, zoned out. My bad. Sorry.”

Remus, feeling relieved that Sirius was no longer gaping at him like a fish above water, chuckled. “That makes two of us, then. Seems like I’ve been in my own world all day.”

Sirius laughed a little too hard at this feeble remark, and Remus squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was taking the mickey. But, no, that wasn’t it. Sirius had this wide-eyed, completely taken aback expression on his face. For a moment, Remus was reminded oddly of Elijah. He couldn’t figure out why — the two men were so completely different. 

Not knowing what else to do — and frankly thinking that if he was feeling discombobulated by the events of his day, Sirius was obviously feeling something even more disorienting — he spoke the first idea that popped into his mind:

“I was just heading to the beach. You could join me?”

Sirius, if possible, looked even more alarmed at this suggestion, and Remus was on the verge of apologising for his presumptuousness and then high-tailing it away from this sublimely bizarre interaction, when the man spoke.

“Alright then.”

“Alright?”

“Alright,” Sirius replied, sounding more convincing this time.

So Remus continued walking in the direction he had been, and Sirius turned around and walked along beside him.

In the confused beginnings of their interaction, everything about the last time he had laid eyes on Sirius had slipped Remus’ mind. Now that they had settled into a steady walk, however, it all came washing back in. 

The way he had screamed at Elijah for “buggering up” the scene, and then proceeded to literally spit at Slughorn's feet during a purposefully dry, _rehearsal_ run of an argument scene. And the way he had looked so broken after each interaction, like he was completely adrift and out of sight of land. 

It seemed to occur to Sirius around the same time that it occurred to Remus. He gave Remus a sideways look, his face painted again with that uncomfortable, sheepish, entirely heartbreaking look. 

“Look, er, Remus. I wanted to — I just wanted to apologise for how I behaved this last week, I was —”

Remus found he could hardly stomach hearing it. “It’s fine, Sirius. We all have bad days. It’s not your fault that when you have them, everyone notices.”

Sirius looked uncertain at this, and then, finally, his mouth twisted into a grim smile.

“It’s _a little_ bit my fault. I mean, I did choose this line of work.”

Remus laughed, too. “Yeah, but it’s not your fault you were so bloody good at it.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Talent’s got nothing to do with it. I just batted my eyes at the right producers, and the bloody machine did the rest.”

“Oh, so you’re saying it’s looks that got you here? I’m not convinced that’s any better. I wonder what the press would say if they discovered how highly Sirius Black thinks of himself.”

Sirius laughed outright. “Ah, fuck me, I can’t even do modesty properly.”

Remus, choosing to ignore this figure of speech (and the flame of heat that licked up his stomach at hearing it), forced himself to focus on the topic at hand. “But have you, er, have you had a good weekend, then?”

Shaking his head ruefully, Sirius said, “Well, I’ve certainly had a _verbal_ weekend. You know Lily — she’s not interested in letting conflict go unexamined, so we spent a lot of time talking about what _she_ could have done better and how _I_ could have communicated more effectively, and whether I wanted someone to talk about my feelings with, and whether I’ve been sleeping properly… Just, you know, rehashing every humiliating moment of last week. It was good fun.”

Remus, who was all too familiar with this tendency of Lily’s, could only nod in sympathy. “What does James do when she lays into you like that?”

“Oh, he makes a symbolic effort to back her down, but we all know by now that the only way out is through. And he had already given me his own James-style talking to on Friday.”

“What’s a James-style talking to?” Remus asked. He had never seen James be anything but good humoured and a bit irreverent; it was hard to imagine him being stern.

Sirius looked a little embarrassed again, and dammit, Remus had thought they were making progress. Sirius was silent for so long that Remus was on the verge of asking a different question, and trying to redirect the conversation back to easier waters. But, then —

“It’s when he looks you deep in the eye and shows you that he loves you but he’s disappointed in you. It’s the most painful bloody feeling in the world.”

Sirius was staring straight ahead, his face arranged in what Remus was sure he believed to be a neutral expression. But his mouth was tense and his eyebrows raised rather too high, and Remus could see how difficult the memory of that conversation still was for him. He pretended not to notice.

“You know, that makes a lot of sense for James, actually. When you listen to his music, it’s easy to feel like he’s not saying much, but, well, what he does say, it finds a way to mean everything, doesn’t it?”

Sirius looked at Remus in surprise, his lips finally quirking into a smile again. “You listen to James’ music? I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but he felt so relieved to have Sirius back into the joking mood, he could hardly summon any sourness. “Well, I had to find out what all the fuss was about, didn’t I? Lily showing up in the tabloids every other week. I had to know if it was worth her trouble, didn’t I?”

“And? Is he? Worth her trouble?”

“Definitely,” said Remus.

Sirius laughed. “I’m glad you think so.”

“What would you have done if I said I didn’t? Beat me up?” The words came before Remus had a chance to think about what they really meant. Suddenly, the queasy, swooping sensation of unreality came back over him.

Sirius, blissfully oblivious to Remus’ experience, chuckled again. “Of course. Bro-code and all that. Gotta have his back, don’t I?”

Remus forced himself to laugh, too. “Of course, of course.” _Yes, boys were good at having each other's backs, in situations like that. In situations where you offended their sense of right and wrong. In situations where you violated the party line._

They had reached the beach without Remus noticing. It was one of the quieter ones, far away from the main tourist drag. The sand was golden yellow and very fine. The water was pale turquoise and so, so inviting. 

Sirius was looking about in interest. “I haven’t come to this beach yet. It’s quiet.”

Remus glanced at him, wondering if he was disappointed. “If you want to go to one of the busier ones, we can do that instead. But I tend to prefer the quiet.”

Sirius was already shaking his head vigorously. “No, this is much better. I doubt the paps even know about this one.”

It was interesting, to hear these little reminders that for Sirius, the outside world was a place you could never quite let down your guard. It bore a strange similarity to Remus’ own experience, albeit with very different causes. It reminded him of something Elijah had mentioned worrying about.

“What’s it like, when you first start to lose the ability to go out and about without being watched? Is it frightening? Or is it gratifying, to be well-known like that?”

Sirius took a moment to reply. “It’s both, I suppose. It feels good that you’re getting attention for your work, and it’s nice to know that you’re succeeding in an infamously difficult to succeed-in field. But when it starts to sink in, you know, that you can’t go to Tesco’s or whatever anymore without being mobbed — that’s kind of terrifying.”

Remus nodded thoughtfully. “Elijah was saying sort of the same thing, the other day. He was saying that he feels guilty that he’s so eager to lose his freedom. Like, he knows how much it bothers people to be watched like that, but he’s still so eager for what it would mean to achieve that level of recognition.”

It was a point of view that Remus had been very interested to hear — he had never seen any appeal to the celebrity lifestyle himself. Partially due, no doubt, to his own relationship with anxiety and paranoia. But to a greater degree, he thought, just because he had never craved attention of that sort. It was enough to be recognised by colleagues and friends. He didn’t need the whole world to sit up and take notice. Lost in these musings, it took Remus a moment to notice that Sirius had grown tense beside him. He looked at the man questioningly, worrying he had said something to offend.

“You must really hate me, right now,” said Sirius. It was the absolute last thing Remus had expected to hear.

“What?” was all he could say.

“I was such an arse to Elijah last week. And he doesn’t deserve it at all. And, well, I know you two are, er, involved. So. I just, I understand if you hate me.”

Remus stared at Sirius in surprise. ‘Involved?”

Sirius was looking more uncomfortable by the second. “Yeah, I mean, he told me you two had been going out. So. I’m sorry, that’s all. I’m really sorry.” He was staring down at the sand, looking like he wished it would turn to quicksand and suck him under.

Remus had to laugh. “Me and Elijah are _not_ involved.”

Sirius’ head snapped up. “What?!”

Remus shook his head. “No, I mean, we went out once on what I was not aware was meant to be a date. And when I realised the miscommunication, well, I told him as nicely as I could that I wasn’t interested _like that_. But I do like him a lot. He’s a good person. And I’d like to hope we’re still mates.” When Remus had set him, well, straight on Wednesday evening, Elijah had taken the blow well. Indeed, he had acted so aggressively good humoured about the whole thing that it had been hard for Remus to feel too guilty about it. The whole debacle had nearly slipped his mind, what with all the drama on set that week.

“I’m surprised he told you,” he continued. “I was rather under the impression he was still trying to keep his sexuality under wraps.”

Sirius, who still looked, for some reason, a bit like he had been hit over the head with a frying pan, nodded absently. “Yeah, yeah. I was a bit surprised by that too. But I figured, well, I suppose Remus is worth it.” 

Remus froze. A split-second later, Sirius did too. Then, he began talking very quickly.

“I just mean, you know, that if you like someone a lot, maybe it’s worth being more open, right? I just mean that, if you have a reason to come out or whatever, that makes it easier, right? That’s what I’ve heard from people, I guess. Not that I would know, like, first-hand, or anything.”

Sirius would not look at Remus. He was once again, it appeared, beseeching the sand to swallow him under. Remus, uncertain exactly what was going on — and completely unwilling to let his mind follow the rabbit hole of _‘what ifs…’_ that had suddenly emerged — decided the best path forward was to pretend (as it seemed he did quite a lot where Sirius Black was concerned) that nothing all that unusual had just happened.

“Yes, I know what you mean.”

Sirius glanced at him. “You do?”

“Sure. I mean, I don’t think it exactly makes things easier, but the promise of companionship can definitely make it less daunting to come out. It definitely was that way for me. I’m feeling a bit shit, now, thinking I pulled the rug from under Elijah like that. Although, I suppose it’s not quite my fault that he got a bit ahead of himself.”

Shaking his head, Sirius said, “I don’t think you need to feel bad. He only told me, I think, and it’s not like I would tell anyone.”

“You wouldn’t?”

Sirius looked completely aghast. “No, of course not. I would never, never do that to someone. Everyone — everyone deserves the choice to come out when and if they choose.”

Remus, who was watching Sirius with a growing sense of warmth, kept quiet. He hoped Sirius would say more.

“Er — you, you mentioned that when you came out, you had a, uh, a _boyfriend_?” He said the word as if he were uncertain it was the right choice. 

Remus, who apparently couldn’t escape the suffocating grip of the past today, nodded. “Well, I thought I did. But, ah, he wasn’t ready to come out when I was. So, ah, well, we didn’t stay together after that.” He found he couldn’t say any more, his voice catching a bit. He cleared his throat and looked to the water. 

“I think I’ll go wade a bit, alright?”

Sirius agreed, and they both made their way down to the water, Remus pulling off his sandals as he went. Remus let the cool, salty waves lap across his feet. He wasn’t usually one for cold water, but on days like today, when the line between past and present felt so tenuous, he found it grounded him. He focused on the sensation, pressing each of his toes into the sand individually. He was jerked out of his meditation by a loud, persistent buzzing. He looked around at Sirius, and saw that he was holding his madly vibrating mobile and looking at it as if it was offending him. 

“Are you going to pick that up?” Remus asked.

“Right. Yes.” Sirius swiped his thumb across the screen and held the device to his ear. “Hello?”

Even standing a metre away from Sirius as he was, Remus could hear Lily’s voice clearly on the other end. 

“Where the bloody hell are you? Are you still alive? You said you’d be gone fifteen minutes, and it’s been two hours.” Sirius winced, and hurriedly lowered the volume.

“Sorry, Lils, I’m on my way back now.”

She said something else in reply that Remus couldn’t quite make out. 

“I fancied going to the beach for a bit,” Sirius said shiftily. And then: “Because I wanted to go to the beach, that’s why!” Another pause for Lily, and then, “Thanks ever so much, I’ll be home soon.” He hung up.

“Bit bold, hanging up on Lily without a goodbye, innit?” Remus asked, who personally would never dare.

“Are you kidding?” Sirius snorted. “She hung up on me.”

Ah. Now that made more sense. “I suppose you have to go now, then.”

Sirius looked unaccountably miserable at this. Although Remus had to admit, the beach was very pleasant. 

“Yeah, I suppose I do.”

“I should be getting home, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

They began walking back to the road they had come on. When they reached it, they prepared to turn in opposite directions, Remus towards his flat in town and Sirius towards his villa in the hills.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” asked Sirius. If Remus didn’t know better, he’d say he sounded almost hopeful.

Remus nodded “See you tomorrow.”

“Good. I mean. Right. See you, then.”

Sirius gave an awkward wave, then turned on his heel and walked quickly up the road. Remus watched his back until he turned around the corner and out of sight. 

Every conversation with Sirius left him feeling slightly off-balance, the whiplash of his vivid moods always leaving him with a new perception of the man. But the uneven terrain made him more interested in getting to know Sirius, not less. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he had ever met anyone more intriguing.

Remus turned towards home, taking the walk slowly as he picked his way through his thoughts like a soldier in a minefield.

That night he dreamt of shouts and dark roads and guilty eyes, that flashed from brown to grey to brown again. He woke just after three, sweaty and claustrophobic. He didn’t go back to sleep.

**~TBC~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for symptoms of anxiety disorder like flashbacks, bad dreams, intrusive thoughts  
> CW for discussions of coming out and being outed, indirect mention of homophobia
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comment if you have a moment -- reading your thoughts is literally the best part of any day <3


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a doozy, folks! Buckle in and enjoy.
> 
> Please be safe, and read end notes for content warnings!

**Remus**

The next day on set, Sirius was a man transformed. Gone were the sullen silences and the angry storming about. He was back to thanking every member of the crew charmingly by name, causing Kristy the PA to nearly melt into a puddle when she brought him a cup of ice water. He was an exemplary scene partner (so far as Remus could tell, he didn’t know much about acting), giving his fellow actors so much warmth and attention that every scene they shot seemed to absolutely crackle with energy. 

All day long, Remus caught his fellow crew members sharing skeptical looks, as if saying to one another, _‘Where’d this guy come from?’_ and _‘How long ‘til he goes back to being an insufferable prick?’_ Their impressions were buffeted by the news frenzy over the weekend that reinforced Sirius’ image as a rude, conceited, drama-queen. Remus wasn’t sure who the “inside source” was who had leaked Sirius’ meltdown to the _Daily Mail_ , but every time he heard someone gossiping about it, he added them to his mental shit-list.

If Sirius noticed the chilliness that followed him around on set, he made no indication. His only response to people’s coolness was an added infusion of warmth, charm, and unerring optimism. He seemed painfully aware that his behaviour had cost them valuable shooting time, and to Remus’ eyes, it appeared he was taking it upon himself to be everyone else’s one-man hype squad while they caught up. He arranged special catering at lunch from one of the nicest restaurants on the island. He praised everyone extravagantly, approached the fiftieth take with the same vigour as the first, and generally brought an infectious feeling of good-humoured focus to set.

Another marked change was his attitude towards Elijah. In their first weeks, he had kept the younger man at arm’s length, treating him with the detached courteousness that Remus associated with dealing with someone else’s slightly annoying child. Then the previous week, Elijah had received the brunt of Sirius’ poor behaviour, as Sirius ignored and then completely eviscerated him by turns. This week, Sirius was making an effort to truly get to know Elijah. Whether this was because of some lasting guilt he felt, or simply another part of his new lease on the project, Remus wasn’t sure. But it made a nice change. 

When Sirius joined Remus, Elijah and Genevieve at their lunch table his first day back, Elijah all but toppled off the bench in shock. 

“Is it alright if I sit here?” Sirius asked, looking genuinely nervous about what the answer might be.

“Of course! Yeah, come sit with us!” Elijah gushed, hurriedly righting himself on the bench. Genevieve rolled her eyes at Remus behind Elijah’s head. Remus gave her a shrug and a smile in return.

Sirius, who had taken the open seat beside Remus, looked around the table a bit sheepishly.

“Hi guys,” he said, making fleeting eye contact with each of them.

“Hi Sirius,” Remus said warmly. He wanted Sirius to know that, despite the lukewarm welcomes he was getting elsewhere, there was still good will here. Genevieve, who was apparently less willing to forgive and forget, just nodded curtly. Elijah, however, seemed to have forgotten the events of the previous week entirely.

“Hey Sirius!” he piped up. “We were just talking about the battle sequence we’re starting on Wednesday. Apparently there’s going to be two _thousand_ extras. I mean, that’s insane.”

“Wow, really?” asked Sirius, no hint of irony in his voice. “That’s incredible. I’ve never worked on a shoot that massive.”

“You haven’t?” Elijah asked, awed.

Sirius shook his head earnestly. “No, I mean, it’s really rare for a comedy to get anywhere near that size. Especially not costumed extras — usually our extras on the show were just unpaid locals who showed up on the day-of in casual clothing. But these guys are trained in martial arts, aren’t they? And they’re all gonna be kitted up.”

Genevieve was giving Sirius an evaluative look. “Is this really your first dramatic role?”

Sirius nodded. “I mean, professionally, yeah. At school, the comedy community and the acting community were fairly separate, so when I appeared in plays there they were almost always dramas. And then I would do sketch comedy outside of that. But I’ve never done a dramatic film before.”

Genevieve looked grudgingly impressed. “You have made the transition well. You seem very natural as a dramatic actor.”

Sirius chuckled. “Well, I certainly know how to be dramatic _as_ an actor.” It was the first time all day he had made direct reference to his poor behaviour the week previous. Elijah giggled nervously, and Genevieve just went back to looking unimpressed.

Sirius looked to Remus, apparently wondering what his reaction would be. Remus, who had only been half listening to the conversation — his brain was otherwise occupied with remembering troubling flashes of his dream from last night — did his best to give Sirius a wry smile. Sirius looked mildly reassured, although it was obvious from the way he kept throwing her little glances that he was still nervous about Genevieve’s tepid reception. 

Remus found it incredibly disconcerting to see Sirius looking so diminished: the man was always all over the place when it came to mood, but whatever he did, he did big. When he was embarrassed, he was cripplingly awkward. When he was angry, he was incandescent with rage. When he was happy, his warmth touched every corner of every room he entered. So this apologetic, reticent man felt like an imposter. In an effort to replace the kicked-puppy look on Sirius’ face, Remus scrounged around for something diverting to say. It would do him good, in any case, to stay more present in the moment. 

“I was talking to Tommy this morning. The choreo he’s put together for the extras sounds really phenomenal.” Tommy Henderson was their fight choreographer. In truth, Remus had no idea what the fight choreography for the extras was going to look like — Tommy spoke in a thick Australian accent and only used technical fight terminology when describing his plans. But he always did a good job, and was adept at taking Remus’ and Lily’s notes on the fly, so he was pretty sure the extras were going to turn out looking fantastically believable. 

Sirius took this lifeline for what it was, and joined in eagerly. “Oh, I’ve been looking forward to the choreo!” He rubbed his hands together in performative anticipation. “I’ve been working on it in one-on-one sessions with Tommy since we started. I reckon it’ll be pretty cool.”

Elijah looked a bit put out. “I don’t have _any_ choreography. I’m just meant to be, like, bringing in the wounded. Not very badass.”

Remus opened his mouth to reassure Elijah, but to his surprise, Sirius got there first.

“No, mate, no. First off, the scenes you have in the medical tent? So fucking cool. I mean, they’re going to be gripping. I’m jealous. And then also, you’re going to have LITERALLY the most badass fight of the entire film. Whilst I’m just bloody moping off camera. So no, you are most definitely the badass here.”

Elijah looked immeasurably more cheerful at this take, and Remus couldn’t be sure if it was the praise being lavished, or the fact that the person doing the lavishing was Sirius. He knew what the answer would have been in his case, but that was neither here nor there. 

“Have you started training with Tommy yet?” Sirius asked.

“No,” said Elijah. “I’m doing general conditioning with a trainer, but we won’t start targeted training until next week.”

Remus was surprised at that. “You’re working with a personal trainer?”

Sirius laughed. “Of course he is, Remus! He’s starring in a bloody war film, isn’t he?”

Elijah was blushing again. “It’s not like I’m getting _buff_ or anything. I mean,” he gestured down his admittedly rather lean and lanky frame, “it’s not like I _could_ be buff. Not like Sirius. But yeah, I mean, I’m meant to look like I’ve been training alongside Achilles my whole life. So.”

Remus glanced at Sirius. “Have _you_ been training?”

Sirius laughed even harder. “Of bloody course I have! Have been since I took the role. You didn’t honestly think I looked like this all the time? Or _ate_ like this?” He gestured to his plate, which held only grilled chicken breast and steamed asparagus. 

To be perfectly honest, Remus _had_ thought Sirius looked like that all the time. That being positively rippling with muscle. It was something he had taken for granted when they met: here was Sirius Black, star of all his most memorable wet dreams, and it stood to reason that he would, indeed, look like a walking wet dream. 

Dearly hoping that none of these thoughts showed on his face (and that Sirius wasn’t somehow capable of reading minds) Remus only cleared his throat and shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” _What a bloody lie_.

Oddly, Sirius looked a little disgruntled at this statement. _Christ, maybe he was as conceited as everyone made him out. Unless_ … but no, the little voice in Remus’ head quickly stifled any impulse to dwell on their walk from the day before. Sirius had obviously been out of sorts then. 

Luckily, any opportunity to dwell was brief. Elijah soon had them distracted again as he relayed a particularly embarrassing story about his first day at the gym, and how he had mistakenly performed twenty reps with a fifteen pound weight, smug in the belief that it was actually a _fifty_ pound weight. Remus’ qualms were soon forgotten in laughter.

~

On Tuesday night, the cast and crew again went out drinking in celebration of the battle scene shoot beginning the next day. The party was mostly in anticipation of the chaos the shoot would bring with it, as their cosy bubble was infiltrated by a whole horde of newcomers.

Against his better judgement, Remus joined in. He had honestly lost count of how many different times he had gotten smashed in the weeks since primary photography commenced. He knew whatever the number was, it outpaced his record for the past five years by about a factor of twenty.

To his surprise and (well, he may as well admit it) pleasure, Sirius had come too, bringing James with him. Lily, it transpired, had elected to take an early night at home with Harry. 

Remus passed the evening with Sirius and James, chatting about the _Game of Thrones_ finale (horribly disappointing), _The Great British Bake-Off_ (now that was some quality telly, although Remus lamented their cutting of the historical segments — ‘Of course you bloody would, Lupin’ howled Sirius), and Harry’s latest eccentricities (‘He fucking refuses to wear a top’ complained James; ‘I’ve taught him well’, countered Sirius, misty-eyed). By the end of the evening, Remus found that he had laughed longer and harder than he could recall ever having done before. And, in another win, he had done quite well to ignore the persistent prickling down his neck as the evening drew later and the crowd larger and louder.

As they stepped out of the bar, however, the dark of the night washed over Remus with greater potency. The bar was only a few blocks from his flat, but all the same, he spent the whole walk home throwing nervy looks over his shoulder.

That night, he dreamt of pulsing blood and the scent of rainy pavement.

~

Remus arrived well after the cast and extras the next morning. This was lucky for him, as all of them had been in hair and makeup since five that morning, being meticulously painted with bruises and plastered with gashes. 

As he walked onto the massive field where they would be filming the battle scene for the next week and a half, Remus pretended to himself that he wasn’t in the least perturbed by all the feigned injuries that surrounded him. Never mind that he hadn’t watched a gory film in more than eight years. Never mind that he habitually skimmed over the passages in historical texts that outlined casualties. 

He found Lily in discussion with Alice, surrounded by camera equipment. Alice would be overseeing all six cameramen today as they captured different angles on the melee. She herself would be operating the primary camera, the one that followed Sirius and the other leads featured in the scene.

He waited respectfully a few steps away from the two women, unwilling to disrupt their focused discussion of lenses, filters, and angles. He could understand enough of what they were saying to ascertain that it was indeed English, but beyond that he just had dizzying memories of being in maths class. 

Alice noticed him before Lily did. 

“Remus!” she called, her voice amused. “Get over here! We won’t bite!”

Lily looked up at Alice’s words and gave Remus a rueful smile. “I’ll make you no promises about biting, Remus. Today had better go off without a single hitch or I swear to god —”

“Yes, yes, you’ll have all our heads,” Alice interrupted. “Lils, forgive me if I’m not intimidated by your threats anymore. I’ve been hearing them since I was fifteen, and my head is still attached.” Looking at Remus, she explained, “I used to shoot all of Lil’s films when we were at school together. So I’m used to the freak-outs.”

Remus could relate. “Yeah, I used to come help out on shoots when we were at uni. So it’s always been like this, hm?”

Alice laughed. “Always!”

Lily was growing less amused by the second. “Oh, ha ha ha, let’s all laugh because Lily doesn’t want to completely fail at her first large-scale battle scene. I’m sure that will help _ever_ so much.”

Remus sobered. “Sorry Lily. I only tease because I have no doubt you’ll be brilliant.”

Alice rolled her eyes at his capitulation, and muttered in a faux-whisper, “Yeah, and because if someone doesn’t loosen up around here soon, you might make the gladiators cry.”

“They’re not gladiators!” 

Remus and Lily, who had spoken at the same time, made eye contact and then dissolved into laughter. Alice just shook her head in defeat. 

“Oh, dear god, no. There’s two of them.”

The droll voice came from behind Remus, and even though he had recognised the speaker instantly, he was still thoroughly unprepared when, on turning around, he was confronted by the absolute vision that was Sirius in full costume and makeup. 

His tan skin glistened with sweat and bronzer and his cheekbones were artfully accented by fake cuts. Smears of “dirt” contoured the impressive undulations of muscle in his exposed arms and legs. His costume consisted of much lighter armour than most of his fellow actors — this had the double boon of suiting Achilles’ preference for agility over protection, and Remus’ preference for seeing as much of Sirius’ skin as possible. 

“Thank god you’re here, Black. I was starting to feel outnumbered.” Alice, who clearly also knew Sirius from school, was obviously unperturbed by his sudden, dazzling appearance. “Can you come over here and help me convince Lily that sun flares are not a big deal?”

Sirius walked past Remus, giving him a smile that certainly didn’t improve his internal state of disarray, and took a look at the playback monitor Alice was holding. 

“The footage looks good, Lils. Are these test shots?”

“Yes! But as you can see, there are loads of flares. But if we use the polariser, the colour profile will be all wrong. I’m so bloody annoyed.”

Alice was shaking her head in exasperation. “The flares look cool! We don’t need to worry about the polariser —”

“This isn’t that kind of film!” Lily interrupted. “I want it to look polished.”

“You two obviously know a lot more about this than I do.” Sirius said hurriedly. “I’m just a stupid actor, after all. I’ll leave you to it, shall I?” He turned to Remus. “Remus, would you come help me talk to Tommy? I think he has me using the wrong kind of sword.”

Tommy knew more about historical weapons than even Remus did, and it was highly unlikely that he had given Sirius the wrong sword. Nonplussed, Remus followed behind Sirius until they got out of range of Lily’s and Alice’s hearing. Sirius then gave him a smirk and said, “The sword is fine. I just thought you might appreciate an out.”

“Oh,” Remus said in surprise. “Yeah, I do. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“But I feel bad not helping,” Remus said. “Lily seems so stressed.”

“Trust me,” Sirius said. “Us hanging around there won’t help any. She’ll come ‘round in the end.”

“Come around?” Remus asked.

“Yeah, you know, to see that Alice is right.”

“Is Alice right?” Remus was surprised. In his experience, one was rarely right when they were in disagreement with Lily.

“Oh, sure,” Sirius replied. “The flares will look really cool for the battle. I mean, Alice is also trying to convince her to let her do some handheld shots. It’ll make the whole thing feel more hectic, you know? It’ll put people more into the panic with us.”

Squelching the voice inside that wanted to say, _‘I don’t think I need a shaky cam to make me feel panicky, thanks very much’_ , Remus asked instead, “Why doesn’t Lily want that, if it’d be better?”

Sirius shrugged. “I’spose she’s just caught up in how different this project is. I mean, she and Alice have worked together on almost every project of her career. They have a signature style, and that style is fairly raw and gritty. It’s part of what’s cool about Lily’s films, I think.”

Remus had to agree — watching a film made by Lily, it was impossible not to feel completely pulled into the world she created. Each frame pulsed with immediacy, every emotion was laid bare. No apologies were made.

“But, well, now Lils has this huge budget. And all these people breathing down her neck waiting for her to fail. So I guess she thinks she needs to prove that she can do something different,” Sirius finished.

“But that’s crap!” Remus exclaimed. “They wouldn’t have given her the funding if they didn’t like her style. She needs to do her thing!”

Sirius laughed at his vitriol. “She will, eventually. Don’t worry. Alice will get her there. But she really doesn’t need more people crowding her right now.”

Remus took in the truth of this as a battle raged quietly in his head: half of him was impressed by Sirius’ insight, the other half annoyed that he hadn’t realised the reason for Lily’s distress himself. He was meant to be Lily’s best mate, after all! And when had Sirius gotten so ruddy thoughtful about other people’s feelings?

_The only surprising thing going on here, Lupin, is that you’re still surprised when Sirius surprises you._

“Er, Remus? You alright?”

Fuck. He had zoned out again. He’d been sleeping so little lately, it was hardly a surprise. But still, it was unacceptable.

“Yes, yeah, I’m good! Sorry, must have gotten distracted.”

Sirius nodded in understanding. “It happens to the best of us!”

“Right.” He didn’t really know what else to say. He suddenly felt horribly subdued — Lily was struggling, and he hadn’t noticed. And he kept on underestimating Sirius, which honestly just made him a hypocrite. And he was having so much trouble focusing, he was completely buggering up the job. When he had woken that morning, the world had felt like an okay place to be. But now Remus was remembering how unerringly miserable everything was. 

At that moment, Kristy ran up, breathing hard. “Mr. Black! They need you on set!”

“Call me Sirius, Kristy. And thanks, I’ll be right there.”

Kristy jogged away again, and Sirius looked at Remus.

“Right, I’m off then. You coming?”

Remus, who knew his job was waiting for him back on that fictional killing field, nodded. The two of them traipsed back the way they had come. In their absence, the entire field had been filled with actors and extras in various states of pretended distress. As soon as they arrived, Sirius was shepherded away by Ewan and shown where on the field he was meant to be standing. Remus, who was now having a much harder time pretending not to mind the simulated gore, found Lily and stood beside her. She was holding a megaphone in her hand, and she looked markedly calmer.

“Sword all sorted?” she asked him.

“What? Oh, yes. All good.”

She nodded, but her attention was focused on the scene laid out in front of her. Soon, she got the all clear from Ewan that the performers were ready to start. She strode forward to where Sirius was waiting to cross swords with a whole horde of Trojan extras.

“Feeling good, Black?”

Sirius gave her a laid back grin. “I’m always good.”

Lily snorted. “Sure.” She looked at Tommy, who was nearby. “Is he ready, Tommy?”

“Yep!” 

“Alright, then. Any questions for me? Or Re?”

Sirius shook his head. “I want to just get a feel for it first.”

“Alright, we can do that.” She turned to locate Alice. “We ready, Alice?”

Alice nodded. Remus noticed that she was no longer decked out in the enormous SteadyCam harness, instead wearing a simple shoulder mount that gave the camera a lot less stabilisation. 

“Trev?” Lily called. “Sound rolling?”

“Rolling!” called Trevor.

“Good. Ewan?”

Ewan ran in front of the camera with his clapboard. “Scene 36, Camera Unit One, Take One!” 

Lily took a deep breath, and raised the megaphone to her mouth. “ACTION!” she called, and the entire field burst into motion around them. 

Sirius swung his sword with the certainty and precision of a lifelong soldier, deftly blocking attack after attack from the Trojans converging all around him. His face betrayed no fear, no tension. As men fell around him and he pressed forward into the crush, his face showed only cool determination. He was a man in his element.

Behind Sirius, still more clashes played out, bodies contorting and weaving in a deathly dance. Shouts and grunts echoed across the field, and everywhere men were falling to the ground, apparently dead or horribly injured. A thick haze of dust was rising up, filling the air and sticking in Remus’ lungs. And everywhere, red, red, red.

In one great, swooping sensation, Remus felt himself disengage from his body. It was like the world was shifting on its axis and carrying the field, the men, and Remus’ body all with it. But Remus’ point of view stayed the same, and so suddenly everything on the earth was rushing away from him, and he could see them all laid out like ants in a colony. They were just an endless array of tiny, inconsequential little humans, playing at the violence that was the hallmark of their species. 

He had seen it all before, he was certain. This field, these men, this carnage. Perhaps he had been there when the Trojan War was actually fought, whether in myth or in reality — did it matter? Perhaps this was the same battle, played out over again and again, and everything outside of this killing field was an illusion. Perhaps he was still asleep, lying in his hospital bed, and these were his morphine-fueled dreams. Perhaps he had died, and the gods were real, and time was an illusion, and the past and the present were all one momentary, celestial blink of the eyes. 

“CUT!” Lily yelled.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps he was only Remus, standing on a film set, depersonalising wildly. He blinked hard, and pushed his feet into the ground. He breathed in, he breathed out. Around him, the wild, dancing bodies found rest. Lily was speaking into her megaphone again.

“That was really good, everyone! Can I have unit leaders circle up around me, please?”

While the actors caught their breaths and makeup artists rushed in to add more fake dirt and blood to the shining, sweaty faces, the various fight coordinators scattered around the set gathered around Lily and Tommy to receive their notes. Remus, still only half present, fell back a bit to lurk behind Lily while she delivered her instructions. 

“How’d that look?”

Remus startled, not having noticed Sirius sidling up to him. He recovered himself quickly, unwilling to draw attention to his continued incompetence.

“Really cool. Really, really cool. Well done.” He hoped he sounded like he meant it. His voice felt too loud, like someone had clipped a microphone to his lapel while he wasn’t looking. But Sirius looked unperturbed. So.

“Thanks, mate! God, it’s fun, isn’t it? Like we could almost be there for real.”

_Oh yes. More than you know._

“Yes, amazing.” _Focus, Lupin_. “You fight really well, you know? You look quite natural with the sword.”

Sirius beamed. “D’you think? Really? God, thanks. I’ve loved working at it. It’s like — it’s an entirely different kind of performance you know? The physicality of it is just — it’s just something else. It’s kind of like, well, I suppose it’s a bit like love scenes, innit? Everything is expressed — uh, expressed with the body.” He trailed off a bit. “God, sorry. The endorphins, you know? I don’t know what I’m saying. Ha.”

 _Thank god for this ridiculous man_. It was suddenly much easier to focus on the present when Sirius Black was talking to you about expressing oneself through sex. 

“No, no, I know what you mean,” said Remus. “It’s like dance, really. I mean, we call it fight choreography for a reason.”

“God, you’re right! Why didn’t I think of that?”

Smiling for real this time, Remus shrugged and said, “We can’t all be clever like me, I suppose.”

Laughing, Sirius gave him a push on the shoulder. “Oh, shove off, Mr. Oxford. You and Lily are bloody insufferable.”

“Oh, yes, much better to leave school forever at seventeen.”

Sirius gasped in faux-outrage. “ _Ex_ -cuse me, posh-pants. I had a career, thank you very much.”

Remus couldn’t help but laugh at that. It was completely preposterous that millionaire actor Sirius Black, with his barely concealed RP accent, was calling him and his soft Welsh vowels posh. Before he could give the other man the ribbing he deserved, however, they were interrupted by Lily.

“Black, get over here.”

Sirius gave Remus a long-suffering grimace and then jogged over to Lily. “You called, Lily dearest?”

“You looked good. I think we can relax some of your moves, though. You seemed very tight, very focused. I want to see Achilles more relaxed. And happier. I want him to enjoy it, you know?”

Sirius was nodding, but he looked uncertain. “Would I really be happy? I mean, I am, you know, killing people.”

“Right, but this is the first all-out war sequence of the film. And what I want you to be keeping in mind that, you know, Achilles has been raised for this purpose. Every moment of his life, he’s been told one day he’ll dominate on the field of battlefield. For him, it’s destiny. Think about the first time you performed in a play, or something. Think about _Hamlet_ . That feeling that everything is finally _right_ , and you know where you fit in.”

Sirius thought it over, then said, “I know what you mean, Lils, but it’s still killing. And I’m meant to be sympathetic as a character, right? I don’t think I should be happy.”

Lily stuck to her guns: “I don’t think it’s sunk in yet, that these people are dying, that these are lives that he’s ending. I think that will hit later, when he’s with Patroclus. I think that’s the tension we’re building here — the exhilaration of battle, the glory of excellence, and then juxtaposed with more grounded emotions. The pain of disappointing one you love, and of becoming something unfamiliar to yourself. Does that make sense?”

Remus felt a chill pass him through him at Lily’s words. She was exactly right — there was a disconnect between actions and consequences going on here. And it was a painfully familiar phenomenon. 

In any case, Sirius seemed convinced. “Ok, I can see that.”

Lily beamed. “Yeah? Ready to go again?”

“Definitely.”

Lily turned to Remus and Tommy. “Anything to add, boys?”

“Nothing from me,” Remus said, hoping no one could see how tightly he was clenching his fists at his sides. 

“Nup!” Tommy called cheerfully.

“Great,” Lily said, raising the megaphone back to her lips. “PLACES EVERYONE!”

Remus steeled himself. He couldn’t — he couldn’t have another _episode_ during this take. He needed to stay present, and sane, and calm. Because this was his job, and this was his passion, and he wasn’t about to lose his cool because a couple of actors had ketchup smeared on their faces. 

As the new take commenced, Remus focused hard on the technical processes happening around him. He tried to appreciate the details of the armour and the weaponry — it was incredible how many there were; the full complement of two thousand performers on the field were kitted up to look like real soldiers from the ancient world. On the perimeters of the field, he could see the unit heads coordinating their various waves of fighters. And there, across the way, he could see Alice’s assistant Toby riding the crane, capturing aerial shots of the scene. They were making art, and they were safe, and Remus was surrounded by funny, kind, hard-working people. And everything was fine.

~

When they wrapped that afternoon, Remus went directly back to the flat. He was fine — he’d kept it together the remainder of the day, he’d even managed to enjoy himself occasionally. But god, was he tired. He’d been on alert every moment, policing his emotions and his reactions, and working furiously to stay grounded in the present. 

He joined Dinah and Marlena for dinner — he wasn’t even slightly hungry, but he didn’t want to worry them by turning in without eating. They shared a bottle of wine, and he accepted a glass, again in the name of normalcy. He watched the clock obsessively, and soon as the hour hand landed on ten, he made his excuses and disappeared to his bedroom. 

He forced himself to shower, brush his teeth, wash his face. He didn’t want to, the rituals held no relief for him, but he knew that he would sleep better if he was clean. And habits were important. He had forgotten that a bit, in the excitement of the summer. Now his body was forcing him to remember.

Finally, he was in bed. Methodically, he slowed his breathing. He scanned his body to find pockets of tension, and carefully relaxed each spot. 

He counted backwards from one thousand. 

He fell asleep.

~

_He was locked in a crush of bodies. A bronze helmet dug into his brow uncomfortably. He held a sword in his left hand. It was far too heavy to lift. The bodies pressed closer. He was going to die._

_A strong arm reached in and pulled him from the mass of limbs. His saviour wore a helmet, but grey eyes flashed merrily through its opening. He followed the soldier who had rescued him. They were running, running, running, trying to put distance between themselves and the melee._

_But Remus was tired, and his armour was heavy. He couldn’t move his legs fast enough. He couldn’t compel his limbs to carry him forward. He couldn’t keep up with Sirius. He was going to be sucked back into the battle._

_Sirius doubled back, and grabbed him again by the arm. He pulled, pulled, pulled him to safety. The heat of the island was receding. The sun was going down. The fields of dried grass were far behind them._

_They were running down a paved street. The air smelled of petrichor. Remus’ body felt light — the armour was gone. He was free. He laughed. Sirius turned around to smile at him._

_But it wasn’t Sirius, and he wasn’t smiling._

_Tristan was pulling him by the arm, looking upset._

_“Remus, we have to go faster,” he yelled over his shoulder._

_Remus tried to run, but he couldn’t. The air was thick and growing thicker; like drying cement, it crushed in on him. Tristan let go of his hand. There were pounding footsteps behind him. He couldn’t see Tristan any longer. Tristan was gone._

_No, Tristan was behind him. And so was Dylan, and Lewis, and Mal._

_And they were hitting him, hitting him, hitting him. He closed his eyes and waited for it to stop._

_“It’s your fault,” said a cruel voice. A voice he recognised. He opened his eyes. It was Sirius. No, it was Tristan._

_No, it was Sirius._

_No, it was Tristan._

_No, it didn’t matter. No, nothing mattered. No, everything mattered. No, everything hurt._

_It just hurt. And it was his fault._

~

**Sirius**

Sirius felt good. He was finally figuring out who Achilles really was. The battle shoot was wrapping up phenomenally. He was getting along with Lily again (mostly). He wasn’t being an arsehole. 

That was a really nice improvement. Nothing felt worse than acting like an arsehole when you weren’t one. 

And, well, Elijah wasn’t dating Remus. He had gotten to the point in the past week where he could admit that that made him happy. Maybe he couldn’t fully admit _why_ it made him happy. But he was getting there. He was getting closer. 

And as it turned out, Elijah was actually a pretty fucking good guy. Sort of naive and dopey, sometimes, sure. But smart, in a nerdy sense, and earnestly kind in a way that a lot of people in the business weren’t. It was becoming more and more apparent to him — or he was remembering with more and more clarity, was perhaps the more appropriate description — why he had clicked so well with the man at auditions. There was chemistry there, at least in character. And he was beginning to think that even out of character, they could actually be friends. 

But, if he was being honest — and honesty was something he was trying to get better at, after all — the very best part about being back on set that week was Remus. Spending time with Remus. 

Elijah and Remus, despite not dating, were apparently good friends. And that meant that the very nice — and not at all intentional consequence of trying to bond with Elijah, _shut up Sirius_ — was that Sirius got to eat lunch with Remus. Every single day. Genevieve was there too, and she seemed a lot less willing to let bygones be bygones, but, well, she was probably right not to let him off the hook so easily. And anyway, every time she was rude, Remus smiled at him consolingly. So Sirius couldn’t find it in himself to mind too much. 

Remus had taken a really active role in shooting the battle sequence. Although Sirius had heard — _fine, he’d asked Lily_ — that the focus of Remus’ dissertation had been queer classical history, the man clearly knew his stuff when it came to warfare and weaponry. He kept close throughout the shoot, and made quiet suggestions to Lily and Tommy about props and attack formations. It was funny — Sirius generally despised the feeling of being corrected, but when Remus offhandedly suggested that it might be better if he yelled ‘ _For Phthia!’_ rather than ‘ _For Greece!’_ , all he could feel was impressed by the man’s seemingly encyclopaedic knowledge of history and mythology. The difference, he decided, was that Remus never seemed smug or condescending when he corrected you. And, also, well, he looked so beautifully contemplative while doing it. 

At home, things between him and James were as good as ever. That was another very wonderful thing about James. He was physically incapable of holding a grudge against someone he loved. After James had had his words with Sirius during their hike, he was content to let the past stay in the past. And living with him again truly was as good as being back at school again. Or, nearly so. There was the small problem of him sleeping in a separate bedroom with his wife now. 

Ah, his wife. Lily. Lils. Ms. Evans Potter, as Kristy still insisted on calling her. She had —- well, she said she had forgiven him. And she certainly treated him with her usual affectionate impatience while they were on set together.

But it could not be denied that this most recent screw-up of his had reminded her forcefully of the last time he had screwed up majestically. Or, more specifically, screwed up majestically in a capacity that directly impacted her. (It was a bit too much to hope that Sirius had avoided screwing up majestically _entirely_ in the past ten years).

So dinner was now, more often than not, littered with small references to _The Snape Incident_. And Sirius, committed to his pleasant and apologetic new leaf, refused to rise to the bait. Well, he had done so far, at least. 

They had finally wrapped the first battle sequence, and everyone was fairly pleased with how it had turned out. Most of the cast and crew were out for a drink in celebration, but Lily, declaring herself exhausted, had chosen to stay home. And James, declaring himself a dutiful husband, had chosen to stay home, too. Sirius decided to stay in with them. He was fairly knackered himself, after all. And besides, he had missed spending time with his godson. 

The godson in question was currently expounding on something fascinating that had to do with “mama”, “buh-buhs”, and “cahs”. James was nodding along seriously, apparently understanding every word.

“What’s he saying then, Jamie?” Sirius asked.

“What, can’t you understand him?” James asked, entirely bewildered.

“No!” cried Sirius and Lily together.

James, still flabbergasted, said, “He’s telling me about how when Lily drives him in the Jeep, she listens to gentle music. But when I drive him, I listen to louder music. Right, Harry?”

Harry bounced in his highchair agreeable. “Buh!”

Lily shook her head in exasperation, but her smile was fond. “James, I really think he’s just chatting baby gibberish. Doctor Pomfrey told us that children don’t start putting together sentences until they’re two at the very youngest. Harry is only eleven months.”

“Nonsense!” James crowed. “My son is clearly a musical savant, and he’s been telling us that while he appreciates the mellower nuances of mama’s music, he really rather prefers the higher energetic quotient of dada’s music. Right Harry?”

“Buh!” said Harry. 

“Alright then, James, alright.”

“It’s true! Should I call my mum for a second opinion? She’ll tell you I started speaking in full sentences when I was ten months old. Apparently, I showed a real aptitude for music even then. I knew all —”

“Knew all the words to “Yellow Submarine” by the time you were one.” Lily and Sirius said together.

“Yes, we know.” said Lily. “I’ve been hearing about how your mummy thinks you’re a genius since I first met you on the school train at the age of eleven.”

“Well now, Lily,” Sirius cut in. “It was our Jamie’s first time going ten minutes without praise! The poor bloke didn’t know what was happening!”

Lily turned to Sirius, green eyes flashing wickedly. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Sirius. From what I can remember, you were already pretty far up his arse at that point.”

James, who had been taking it in turns to look playfully affronted and eat his skirt steak, choked on his wine. “Excuse me. What?”

Lily turned to her husband. “Yes, James?”

“What did you just say?”

“I said that by the time I came into your train compartment with Severus, you two were already very busy egging each other on and completely ignoring the fact that other people in the world had any sort of worth! What did you think I meant, darling?”

James had the good sense to shut his mouth at this point. Sirius, however, had never been accused of having good sense in his life. And besides, he was sick of Lily defending that slimy, bigoted git. 

“Oh Lily, do shut up, won’t you?” he yelled.

“Excuse me, Black?” she said, her voice dangerously quiet.

Harry started crying.

“Alright, I’m just going to nip upstairs with the little tyke, and I’ll be back in a flash,” said James, already halfway up the stairs.

“Oh, yes, run away like a little dog with its tail between his legs! I wouldn’t want you to have to choose between your wife and the love of your life!” Lily sneered after him.

James turned around at the top of the stairs. “I’m coming right back down, Lily, and you know that.” He didn’t wait for a response, only continued on to Harry’s nursery.

Lily stared after him for a moment, her cheeks pinking, but she soon had all of her attention focused back on Sirius.

“Well, Black? What was that you were saying to the woman who’s been cleaning up your messes for ten years now, and who’s lifelong dream you just did your best to utterly spoil?”

Sirius flinched at the truth in her words, but he was too far in to turn back now. And besides, he was at the very end of his rope here. If Lily even knew the _half_ of it… 

“Thanks for asking, Lils. I said shut the fuck up about Severus Snape!”

James skidded back down the stairs, baby monitor in hand. 

“Sirius, you know that’s out of line, mate.’ He said, a warning in his voice. He crossed the dining room to stand beside Lily.

“As if you knew anything about it, you blind fuck!” Sirius screamed at James, beyond all reason at this point.

“Sirius,” James said, his voice painfully calm. James had started doing this infuriating thing since he’d married Lily, where instead of shouting back at Sirius, he approached all of his worst moods with gentle understanding and empathy. It was utterly despicable. “Sirius, _mate_ , what’s going on?”

“What’s going _on_ is that she” — he pointed accusingly at Lily — “has been defending that bloody cesspit for fifteen years now. And I’m tired of listening to it!”

Lily was beyond quiet outrage. “Of course I’m fucking defending him, you arse!” she screamed. “You’ve been doing your best to destroy him since you were a psychopathic eleven-year-old with mummy issues!”

“Hey, now,” said James, putting a cautioning hand on Lily’s shoulder. But Sirius was so beyond caring, the jibe about his family bounced right off of him.

“He’s a racist, Lily! And he's a classist! And he — he bloody harassed you for years! Why are you defending him? He sent you dick pics, for chrissake!”

Lily seemed like she was on the verge of explosion. “He only sent those to me, Sirius, because you lied to him and told him that I wanted them! Or had you forgotten that little detail!”

Sirius thought he might be sick. “I never said you wanted pictures!” he screamed. “And I only did anything because —”

“Because what? What could possibly possess you to do that, Sirius? Because you’ve apologised time and again, and I’ve tried to forgive you, time and again! But I can’t forget. And you know I love you, and you know I understand that you haven’t had the easiest go of it. But I really, really thought we were past this! And I thought you were done doing these things! So tell me, Sirius. What the fuck kind of magical explanation do you have that’ll make it acceptable that you’re still defending that heinous, thoughtless, childish little prank from ten years ago? You’re fucking twenty-six. Grow the fuck up.”

… 

  
  


**_Hogwarts Performing Arts Academy, May 2010_ **

_Gideon pressed Sirius into the locker with surprising strength, but his lips running down Sirius’ neck were achingly gentle._

_“Kiss - kiss me,” Sirius gasped out. “Please, Gid.”_

_He used the hand that was cupping the back of Gideon’s neck to manoeuvre his head upwards, finally bringing their lips back together. He could feel Gideon’s barely-there stubble against his cheek. He could feel the short curls of hair at the nape of his neck, slipping between his fingers. His firm, broad chest pressed Sirius further back into the cold metal of the locker. He leaned back pliantly, enjoying the coolness of the metal locker against his neck. He loved the smell of Gideon, salty and musky and purely boy. A boy. A boy who was miraculously kissing him back._

_This, Sirius thought, this is what kissing is meant to feel like. This is why James has gone so barmy._

_The door of the locker room slammed open._

_Gideon froze, one hand still gripping Sirius’ bicep, the other still propped on the wall._

_Sirius, all the pleasurable warmth of the moments before having drained out of his body, stared at the door in cold terror. There was Snape, his narrow, pallid face contorted in glee._

_“Snape!” Sirius tried to layer as much threat and power into the one word as possible, but to his horror, it mostly came out sounding frightened._

_Snape just gave him one more sickeningly triumphant look, then turned around and ran. Sirius shoved Gideon out of the way and ran after him, his mind churning, churning, churning. He needed time, he needed a plan. But there was no time. There was no plan. There was only the dreadful certainty that everything was about to crumble around him._

_…_

_That night at dinner, Snape was even more vile than usual. He sat at his table and stared at Sirius from across the room, his face smug and his black eyes bright._

_“What’s gotten into Snivellus?” James muttered to him. “He looks especially evil tonight.”_

_Lily, sat beside him, kicked him in the shin and then resumed her conversation with Mary. James gave her hand, which he was holding, an apologetic squeeze._

_Sirius forced himself to shrug carelessly. “He doesn’t need a reason to look evil, does he?”_

_James laughed at the truth of this, and returned his attention to eating shepherd’s pie with one hand._

_But Sirius couldn’t relax. Snape had had all day to ensure Sirius’ ruination. But no one was looking at him differently, no whispers had followed him down the halls. So Snape, the reptile, was obviously holding on to his new ammunition. But why? Why was he waiting?_

_Down the table, Gideon was trying to catch his attention. Sirius ignored him. It was all well and good for Gideon. Gideon had been out since he was fourteen. Gideon didn’t have any enemies. Gideon had lovely, supportive parents._

_Oh, god. The parents._

_Hogwarts had an annual parents weekend, where students put on showcases of the various projects and skills they had cultivated throughout the year. Sirius’ parents would be attending — not to watch his improv group perform, and not to watch him star as Orestes, but to listen to Regulus’ violin recital._

_This was what Snape was waiting for. This was why he was biding his time. He was going to drop this bomb and blow up Sirius’ life in full view of all the parents. And then his parents would know, beyond the shadow of any doubt, that their disappointing son had sunk even lower. The little Sirius had eaten that day threatened to make a reappearance._

_He leapt up from the table, startling James and Lily._

_“I forgot to, ah, turn something into McGee. Must dash.” He strode away from the table before they could respond. As soon as he left the dining hall, he broke into a run. He made it to the bathroom just in time, leaning over the nearest toilet and heaving up the contents of his stomach._

_When he was finished, he went to the sink and splashed cool water on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror. His black hair was plastered to his head with sweat. His grey eyes were bright and manic. The grey eyes he had inherited from his mother._

_She always told her sons, “The Blacks don’t lose. Sometimes we land on the back foot, but we always come out first in the end.” She was cold, and she was demanding, but if there was one thing he had learned from her, it was that as long as there was still hope, you never gave up. And when the hope was gone, you still didn’t give up._

_And there was still hope. Because Snape was waiting. Snape was lording this over him. And that, that would be Snape’s fatal mistake. Sirius would make sure of it._

_Sirius breathed deep and smoothed down his hair. He rinsed his mouth with water once more, then walked casually out of the bathroom and towards his dormitory. It was time to make a plan._

_…_

_Lily’s password was painfully easy to guess. James’ birthday. 2-7-0-3-9-3. Pathetic._

_She and James had disappeared into the dormitory five minutes previously. Lily had been suitably distracted at the time so as not to notice Sirius plucking her mobile up from the sofa, where it had slipped from her pocket. Knowing the two lovebirds, Sirius figured he had a good half-hour at the very least. An hour if he (and James, he supposed) got lucky._

_He scrolled through her contacts until he landed on the one he needed. All this time later, it was still primly labelled with a first and a last name. He pulled the text conversation up on the screen. It was untouched for the last five months._

__________

10-12-09:

Severus 

Are you honestly dating him?

Lily 

Yes, Severus. He’s a good person. He’s grown up a lot.

Severus 

He’s an arrogant bastard

Lily 

I’m sorry you feel that way

Severus 

I’m sorry you’re so bloody brainwashed by potter and his friends

Lily 

Sev, c'mon

Severus 

Forget it, Lily. You’re going your way and I’m going mine. Have fun with the paki.

_________

_Sirius felt his rage swell, like a sail that’s caught the wind. How could Lily still defend this person? How had she ever been friends with him in the first place? Any qualms he felt about betraying Lily’s trust fizzled out inside him. He set to typing out his message._

_________

16-05-10:

Lily 

Severus, I’ve been thinking a lot about how we left things. I miss you. I want you. I really think you’re the one for me. You were right, I don’t love James. I love you, and I want you.

________

_Snape replied with pathetic speed._

________

Severus 

Oh god, Lily. Are you serious? Do you mean it?

Lily 

Yes, Severus. I love you. I want you. I need you.

Severus 

I’ll come to you right now. Where are you??

Lily 

No, there’s no time. I need you NOW.

Severus 

What do you mean?

Lily 

I’m alone in my room, Severus. Tell me. Tell me what you want to do to me.

Severus 

_typing..._

_________

_…_

_It was almost too easy._

_Snape, the miserable, gullible bastard, spewed his filthy thoughts all over Lily’s inbox. Sirius deleted all the messages in the conversation save for Snape’s final ones. He took a screenshot, carefully including all of Snape’s incriminating fantasies, and his slur against James from the previous year._

_He sent the screenshots to himself, and then deleted that conversation, too. He left Lily’s phone on the couch, and walked away._

_He didn’t see the last message come in. He didn’t see that it was a picture file._

_…_

_That evening, when Lily and James had returned from their sojourn in the dorm, Lily picked up her phone, opened her unread messages, and screamed. James, startled, looked over her shoulder, and gave a yelp of his own._

_Lily was quick to demand explanations from Snape, and Snape was quick to reply with screenshots of his own. Sirius was the only suspect, and he confessed quickly enough. Lily’s rage was unpleasant, James’ disappointment even more so. But it was okay, because Sirius knew they could get past it. And more importantly, his secret was safe._

_Snape had word of mouth, but Sirius had hard evidence. And anyway, everyone liked charismatic, handsome Sirius far more than they liked weird, loner Snape. If it came to a duel of blackmail, it was clear to both of them who would come out unscathed. And it sure as hell wasn’t Snape._

_Sirius’ mother was a bitch, but she was right about some things: A Black always won in the end._

… 

Lily was breathing hard, still staring at him, her green eyes bright with fury.

“Well?” She asked. “What’s the story then, Black? Enlighten us.”

Sirius opened his mouth, then shut it again. He wanted to tell her. He wanted it so badly. He wanted her to see that his had been the actions of a terrified kid. He wanted her to see that he had never once meant to hurt her, then or now.

And he wanted done with this secret. He’d been carrying it around for so long. It was so heavy. He was so tired.

He opened his mouth again. But he couldn’t bring himself to get the words out. He couldn’t make a peep.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Lily bit out. She turned on her heel and walked upstairs, leaving James looking at Sirius with a painful expression on his face.

“Sirius. Talk to us, mate. Please.”

Sirius only shook his head mutely. He was torn between the desires to scream in frustration and whimper in despair. But neither of those felt like options any longer, so he just walked to the door and let himself out. He took care to let it slam hard behind him.

~

His legs carried him to the bar in town with little conscious input from his brain. It was only upon arriving there that he remembered the cast and crew were having another drinks night tonight. He froze in the doorway, weighing the pros of getting pissed with the cons of socialising.

He froze too long. 

“Sirius!” called Elijah’s voice. “We’re over here!”

Sirius’ eyes found Elijah at the bar. They also found that several other people around the room were now watching him with undisguised interest. Fuck. How long did he have until the paps showed up?

Remus, who was sitting beside Elijah, elbowed him and looked meaningfully at the various whispering patrons. Elijah flushed and smiled apologetically at Sirius. Sirius shrugged and wandered over to join them at the bar.

“How goes it, lads?” he asked. To the bartender, he said, “Double scotch, neat.”

“We’re good!” said Elijah. “We were just —”

“Excuse me, uh, Sirius?”

Steeling himself, Sirius swivelled around on his stool. A young woman was standing hesitantly behind him.

“Um, I really admire your work. Do - do you think we could take a photo?”

Sirius plastered a smile on his face. “Sure!” he said, voice all fake enthusiasm.

The girl held her mobile out to Elijah.

“Do you mind taking it?” she asked.

“Oh, uh, ok,” said Elijah. He stood from his seat and waited for them to get into position. Sirius wrapped his arm lightly around the girl’s shoulders, and Elijah snapped a couple photos.

“Thanks so much!” gushed the girl, looking up at Sirius with stars in her eyes.

“Anytime!” said Sirius heartily. “Thanks for coming over!”

Once she had disappeared back to her friends, Sirius lifted the tumbler the bartender had deposited in front of him and emptied it in one go.

“Next round’s on me,” he said to Elijah and Remus. “What’s everyone drinking?”

“Rum and coke,” said Elijah, watching him with wide eyes.

“I think I might actually be on my way,” said Remus. He stood from the bar, threw down a ten euro note, clasped Elijah warmly on the shoulder in farewell, and nodded to Sirius. Then he strode out of the bar without looking back.

With Remus gone, Sirius realised that he actually couldn’t stand the idea of being in the bar for another moment longer, either. He opened his wallet and pulled out a fifty euro note. He turned to the bartender.

“Let this cover my friend’s tab too, alright? And keep the change.” 

“Where are you going?” Elijah asked, alarmed.

“I’ve just realised how tired I am. Sorry, Elijah. I’ll see you Monday, alright?”

He clasped Elijah on the shoulder just as Remus had done, and then made his way out the door. He had no idea where he would go next. He couldn’t go home until Lily and James were asleep, and that wouldn’t be for another couple of hours. Besides, he had this reckless, desperate energy coursing through him. He wanted to do something big. He wanted something to change. He _needed_ something to change. Shoving his hands hard into his pockets, he turned and began pacing away from the bar as quickly as possible. 

“Sirius?”

Sirius whipped around. Remus was leaning against the wall outside the bar, smoking a fag. 

“Hi.” Sirius said. He was frozen in the middle of the street, just watching entranced as a curl of smoke swirled from between Remus’ parted lips.

“You alright?” Remus asked, watching him carefully.

Sirius felt the reckless, desperate energy inside of him swell until he could hardly draw breath.

“Don’t ask me that,” he choked out.

Remus nodded gently. “Alright,” he said. “Alright.” He stubbed out his fag and dropped it in the bin. He pushed off of the wall and came to stand next to Sirius. 

“I thought maybe I’d go for a walk before turning in. Care to join?”

Sirius nodded jerkily. Without another word, without giving Sirius the chance to choose a direction, Remus started making his way down the road in the direction that led away from town centre. After hesitating a moment, Sirius jogged to catch up and then matched their strides. He watched Remus through the corner of his eye. His face was like the surface of a lake at dawn: completely smooth, not a single ripple to betray the presence of the life teeming beneath the surface. 

He was so beautiful. It was true, Sirius knew it was true. Whether it was the scotch he had drunk, or the fight with Lily, or the cliff edge of exhaustion that he felt himself tiptoeing closer to with every passing day, Sirius didn’t know. But looking at Remus’ finely carved cheekbones caressed by moonlight, the slender, silvery scars that stood out only at this time of day, the brown eyes that seemed to glow like embers even in the dark: he could no longer deny that the feeling that swept through his stomach when Remus met his eyes was pure desire. And he could no longer deny — if he had ever even tried — that the calm certainty and steady acceptance with which Remus moved through the world was the first port he had found in a many years’ long journey through storm-tossed seas. 

Remus stopped walking. Finally looking up and at their surroundings, Sirius understood why. They were at the beach again, the quiet one they had walked on — was it really only two weeks ago? Remus looked at Sirius, and Sirius could feel his pulse everywhere; his fingertips, his eyebrows, the backs of his knees.

“Is it alright if we stop here awhile?” Remus asked quietly.

Sirius nodded. Remus nodded back, a small smile playing on his lips, and then moved onto the sand. They walked down the beach for a few minutes. Sirius gloried at the cool breeze coming off the water. He always forgot how flustered the heat made him until he had some relief from it. Remus could apparently read his mind.

“I always feel better when I’m near water,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed, his voice croaky once again. He cleared his throat. “The ocean it’s — it’s so big.” 

_What the fuck, Sirius?_

Remus, amazingly, didn’t laugh at him. He just hummed in agreement. “It frightens me, but in a good way.”

“Exactly!” said Sirius. “Exactly! It makes me feel very — very _human_.”

“It makes me feel very mortal,’ agreed Remus. 

Sirius laughed in surprise. “That’s one way to put it!”

Remus shrugged, smiling slightly. “It’s the best way I know to describe it.”

Sirius stopped laughing. He turned, so that instead of standing beside Remus, he was facing him.

“Remus?” he asked.

“Yes Sirius?”

He didn’t know what he wanted to ask. _How do you make me feel so calm and yet completely dumbstruck all at once? How can you have so much insight into the world and still remain so kind? How do you always know exactly what to say? Do you know how beautiful you are?_

The hectic bubble of energy inside him, which had only just started to feel more manageable, swelled once again until it was all consuming. Sirius looked at Remus, and Remus looked back. He didn’t push. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t flinch away. He just watched carefully, his eyes like liquid amber in the moonlight, as Sirius tried to show him all that he could not say out loud. 

Remus smiled at him; a sad, knowing, lopsided smile. Sirius felt himself teeter at the very edge of his private cliff. Remus parted his lips and exhaled a slender breath. Sirius pushed himself over the edge.

He surged forward, clumsily bringing their lips to meet. Remus gave a jagged breath of surprise, and Sirius could taste the tobacco he had smoked. Then Remus’ lips turned pliant beneath his own, and finally they were kissing in earnest. Sirius brought one hand up to cradle Remus’ head at the nape, the other hand finding home on the small of his back. Remus in turn placed a warm, dry hand on Sirius’ cheek, and the gentle pressure of it coaxed his mouth open to admit Remus’ tongue. The kiss grew in intensity then, Remus’ ministrations insistent and curious as he explored Sirius’ mouth. Sirius could not remember kissing ever having felt like this — even Gideon, whose kisses had woken him up to a universe of possibilities, had not made his world shift on its axis. Gideon had never caused him to lose all sense of time and space. Gideon had never stopped his thoughts, so that all there was in the world was sensation.

And then, behind him, he heard the sound of dry seaweed crunching underfoot. His body flooded with a familiar horror. He pulled away hard and turned around, hardly daring to breath. 

Standing there behind him was one of the many stray dogs that roamed freely over the island. The dog was sniffing a dead crab, oblivious to the scene he had just interrupted. Relaxing, Sirius turned back to Remus, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said. “Thought it might be a photog.”

Remus’ brow creased in concern.

“Just a dog, though!” Sirius said, taking a step forward and reaching for Remus’ hand. “But, uh, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Remus was obviously thinking very hard about something. Sirius, disconcerted and more than a little eager to resume a far more pleasurable activity, gave him a nudge.

“Remus? Er, where should we go?”

Remus sucked a deep breath in. He pulled his hand out of Sirius' grasp and took a step back. He wouldn’t meet Sirius’ eyes.

“I think this was a mistake,” he said. “I have to go.”

Before Sirius could fully comprehend what was happening, before he could even remember how to formulate words, he had turned around and begun walking quickly away.

“Remus! Wait! What happened?” Sirius yelled when he had remembered where his mouth was.

Remus didn’t turn around, didn’t slow down, didn’t give any indication that he’d heard Sirius’ words at all. He just carried himself away into the dark, Sirius watching his back until it disappeared into the night. Then he let his legs give way, and crumbled onto the sand. Tears came and he let them flow, not even raising a hand to wipe them away. Who was there to hide from, here? 

Only a homeless dog crunching on a decaying crab.

  
  
~ TBC ~  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for description of panic attack, description of derealisation  
> CW for implied/referenced violence (not at all graphic)  
> CW for being walked in on/fears of being outed  
> CW for a slur against South Asian people
> 
> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think! <3


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's another doozy, friends! Sorry not sorry
> 
> ~  
> ~  
> ~
> 
> CWs for this chapter:  
> description of homophobic violence (non-graphic)  
> description of PTSD symptoms/derealisation 
> 
> Please be safe! If you prefer not to read this chapter, and would prefer to simply read a summary of main events, shoot me a message and I'll be glad to give you an overview :)
> 
> ~

**Remus**

Remus walked back to the flat as quickly as possible and went directly into his bedroom. Luckily, it was past midnight, and Marlena and Dinah had already turned in, so he didn’t even have to go through the awkwardness of brushing them off. His bed sat in the middle of the far wall, a bedside table to one side of it and a chair to the other side. 

That wasn't going to work at all. 

Remus pulled the chair out of the way and pushed his bed into the corner it had occupied. Ignoring the wrinkling of the carpet, ignoring the now aggressively haphazard placement of the bedside table and chair, he kicked off his trainers, shucked off his socks and trousers, and threw himself onto the bed. He wedged himself into the newly-accessible corner, sitting upright with his back pressed hard against the wall. 

Finally, the creeping sensation stopped climbing up his back. He could see the door and both windows without even turning his head. He was safe. 

That didn’t mean he was going to sleep.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. _

A month and a half ago, before he had met Sirius and his only knowledge of the man came from film and the occasional ludicrous story courtesy of Lily, he had been comfortable in the belief that this was a beautiful, entirely unattainable, heterosexual celebrity whom he would simply have to grow used to working in proximity with. 

Then he had spent a little time around Sirius, and came to see that he was generous, and expansive, and so rich in emotion that no slick veneer could ever mask the teeming multitudes he held inside. And that had been — well, it had been fine. The man had come to take up more space in his head, certainly, and had grown into a person far beyond mere looks and charm, but still, it was fine. Because although Remus had stopped seeing Sirius as a distant and unassailable star, the fact remained that the man was very straight and very gorgeous and very much outside Remus’ realm of possibility. 

And then, Sirius had shattered, and any semblance of an unbothered facade had fled alongside his composure, and Remus had begun to wonder — only wonder, only grasp at the faintest, airiest, most fanciful hints — whether Sirius really was quite so impossibly straight as he had first appeared. And he had resisted the wondering with all he had, because whatever the truth, Sirius wasn’t for him, and he wasn’t out, and it really wasn’t any of Remus’ business in the first place.

And then that night, Sirius had shown up at the bar. And he had looked rattled, and frightened, and utterly miserable at the prospect of greeting any fans. And then he had downed a double scotch in three seconds flat, where Remus had been milking the same half pint for nearly two hours and hadn’t drunk more than a single glass of wine in over a week, and it was suddenly glaringly obvious that something was going on and that Remus really oughtn't be involved in it. 

So he’d excused himself and even permitted himself a cigarette as a reward for his self-restraint, ignoring the voice in his head that reminded him how stupid a system that was. And not one minute later, Sirius was outside looking like a man who’d just been dropped in a pit with a tiger. And Remus had spoken, before he could remind himself not to, before he could summon up even a single grain of self-preservation. Because he knew pain, and he knew fear, and he knew that even as unknown as Sirius really was to him, he couldn’t see the man engulfed in flames without at least trying to throw him some water. 

So they had walked together, and without Remus thinking too much about it, they had ended up back at the beach where they had walked together only two weeks previously, and where Sirius had looked so inexplicably relieved to hear that Remus and Elijah weren’t, in fact, an item. And Remus had watched Sirius, and felt the pain and the tension and the chaos radiating off of him, and he had felt only sympathy, both for the man in front of him, and the boy he himself had been only ten years prior. It felt like an eon, but also like no time at all. And in the elision of time, in the suffocating cloak of memory and sensation and stark empathy, he had felt closer to Sirius than he could remember ever having felt to anybody. 

And Sirius had said his name, and he had said Sirius’, and then Sirius had kissed him. And it was unlike any other kiss he could remember, because it was open, and raw, and so, so full of feeling that Remus could do nothing but plumb its depths and wonder at the fact that it seemingly had no bottom. 

And then there had been a noise, and Sirius had startled away from him, and everything had come rushing back in. Who Sirius was. How highly observed he was, and how deeply closeted he remained. How hard he, Remus, had worked never to be in this position again: to never leap away from a kiss for fear of discovery, to never hide his desires because the world might not agree with them. To never again combine terror and love, as he had been forced to all those years ago, and as Sirius was so clearly doing now. 

Now here he was, jammed in the corner of a borrowed bedroom in a rundown flat more than two thousand kilometres from London, watching the door and thinking of rainy streets, and raised voices, and wide, frightened eyes.

He watched the door and hoped that the sun would rise in the morning.

~

**Sirius**

Sirius stayed on the beach until he grew so cold that he could no longer feel his arse. 

The tears had stopped falling after a half hour or so. They weren’t very satisfying. They made his throat hurt.

Then the doubt had taken over.  _ What had he done wrong? How had he scared Remus off? _ He scanned over every event of the evening, and each moment became a possible culprit.  _ Maybe Remus hates the taste of scotch. Maybe Remus is scared of dogs. Maybe Remus could tell how inexperienced he was, and had been disgusted away by the very thought of doing more with him.  _ However, doubt could not stick around very long, either. Or rather, doubt could not stick around alone.

Rage joined in, then, and with a vengeance. 

What was Remus playing at, leaving him without an explanation? He knew he was a good kisser; even Marlene had said so! Remus was clearly misguided. And fucking Lily! If anything about him had been off that night, she was clearly the one to blame. With her yelling and her completely irrational, continued defence of that bigot Snape. Yes, clearly, Remus had only run off because Lily had made Sirius feel so bloody barmy that night. If not for her, everything would have gone — well, not to plan, as Sirius had no plan. But certainly better. 

Sirius threw stone after stone into the water, wishing each plunk could be magnified into a tidal wave. Then, maybe, the world would understand his suffering. And be sorry.

But over time, the sand around him was picked free of suitably-sized rocks. Rage became mere anger, and then only an empty, scraped-out sort of exhaustion.

He pulled himself to his feet and began the slow trudge home.

Lily was waiting for him in the front room, dozing on the couch, her mascara still dried in dark smudges on her cheeks. 

She awoke when he pushed open the door.

“Sirius?” she asked, her voice hoarse with sleep and tears.

“Hmph,” he said, making to walk past her and directly into a hot shower, where he might drown himself in peace. 

“Sirius, wait,” she said.

He stopped walking, but didn’t turn around. He was not interested in another telling off. Not tonight. “What,” he said. There was no question in his tone, because he honestly did not care what she had to say. He hoped she would make note of that.

“I wanted to say — I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

That gave Sirius pause. He turned around.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” Lily said again. “I know I’ve been unfair. I know I shouldn’t still use — use... Severus… against you. You were young, and he was a cruel person, and if you say you didn’t mean it to go that far, and if you say you had a reason, I should believe you.” Her voice shook. “Because you’ve shown me what kind of friend you are more often and with more grit and love than that — that arsehole ever could have. I know that.”

Sirius was frozen. He had wanted Lily to say this to him for years. He had waited, he had shouted, he had teased and poked and cajoled, and finally, on one of the worst nights he could remember having, she was doing it. And he could hardly bring himself to care. He was too tired to care.

“Alright, Lily,” he said finally. “Alright.” He turned back around and carried himself directly to bed. Showers were overrated, anyway.

~

When Sirius woke up the next morning, it took him a few moments to remember why he felt so much dread at the prospect of a new day. Then the image of Remus’ face from the night before flooded his mind, and he remembered everything, and he wished he had never woken up. 

He rolled over onto his back and star-fished out his limbs. There was a spider crawling across the white plaster of the ceiling. He watched its journey to the window, and thought about Remus. He watched it throw itself pointlessly against the clean glass, and thought about Remus some more.

Then a loud banging issued from his door.

“Sirius!” called James’ voice. “Wake up! I’ve made breakfast!”

Sirius pulled his pillow over his head and pretended James didn’t exist. James ruined these efforts by ramming open the door and throwing himself onto the bed atop Sirius. 

“Your duvet is very nice,” came James’ muffled voice. “I think it’s better than ours.”

“Fuck off!” Sirius howled.

“But your bed is so comfortable,” whined James. “I think we need to trade.”

“James!” Sirius yelled.

“Fine,” said James. He pushed himself up off the bed. “But come down to eat, I don’t want it to get cold.” He walked to the door, letting himself out and finally giving Sirius the privacy he needed to perish in peace. 

His stomach growled. Perishing was hungry work. 

“What did you make?” Sirius called after James.

“What was that?” James yelled from the corridor.

“What’s for breakfast?” Sirius tried again.

“I can’t hear you!” James shouted back. “Come downstairs and ask again!”

Sirius rolled over and groaned into his pillow. Then he got out of bed, pulled on the tee shirt that was balled up on the floor from the night before, and made his way downstairs. James was looking self-satisfied behind the stove. The frying pan was full of fat sausages and fried mushrooms.

“Want some?” James asked, not bothering to conceal his smirk.

“I’m not s’posed to eat sausages,” Sirius complained. “I’m on a diet.”

“Bugger your diet,” said James.

Sirius could not argue with that logic. He pulled out one of the stools at the kitchen counter and took a seat. 

Sirius watched James load up two plates with sausages, mushrooms, toast, eggs, and grilled tomatoes. “Where’s Lily?” he asked. “Doesn’t she want to ruin breakfast, too?”

James, turning to the counter and bearing greasy gifts, ignored the venom. “I thought I’d let her have a lie in. She barely made it to bed last night, and now that Harry’s finally sleeping in the mornings…”

“Hmph,” said Sirius. “Well of course saintly Lily deserves a lie in.”

“Sirius —” James began.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Jamie! Christ, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry I did that to Snivellus. I’m sorry I never seem to stop ballsing everything up!” The image of Remus’ face from the night before flashed behind his eyes again.  _ What had he done wrong? _ He swallowed back the tears that threatened to rise. “I’m sorry I’m such a miserable excuse for a human! Are you happy now? Is this why you wanted me to wake up early? So you could make me feel more like shite?”

“Hey! Hey! Sirius!” James ran around to the other side of the counter and put an arm around his shoulders. “That’s not what I was going to say at all. I was going to say I think Lily’s sorry for what she said last night. And that I’m here for you. Whatever’s going on. I’m here for you.”

Sirius felt very hot all of a sudden. He shrugged off James’ arm, but it didn’t help. 

“Did she — ” Sirius faltered, and tried again. “Did you two talk about it, last night?”

“Not really,” said James. “Harry woke up again when you — uh, left, and well, by the time we got him back to sleep, we were half dead on our feet. But I know she was worried about you. After I went to bed, she came back downstairs to wait for you.”

Sirius winced. He had known when he was slamming the door that it would probably wake his godson. At the time, he had felt some savage pleasure at the thought. And Lily, waiting for him downstairs when she could have been catching up on sleep...

“Yeah, I saw her last night. She said she was sorry.”

“And?” James asked. “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything. What do you want me to say?” Sirius felt his temper rising again. “Obviously I love her, James. Obviously that’s not going to change! But christ, it’s been years of her standing up for that slimy git! Years of her keeping me on the hook, determined to torture me with the memory of that fuck up at every crummy chance! It’s bloody exhausting, you know? And why now, huh? Why, suddenly, is she letting go now?”

“I think,” James started slowly. “I think she’s known you weren’t — er — the only antagonist in that situation for a while. I think it’s just been hard for her to admit it.”

“ _ The only antagonist? _ ” Sirius repeated incredulously, “James, you saw the word he used for you! You remember the kind of shite he used to say to people at school all the time! He used to make Gideon Prewett’s life hell, just because he was — he was gay.”

“And  _ you _ remember how hard she laid into him when he did shite like that! And she hasn’t had an actual conversation with him since he called me that. She completely cut him out! Sirius, I’ve never been angry with you for giving Snape a hard time — sure, it was immature, but whatever. The git had it coming. I just — you did it at Lily’s expense, can’t you see that?  _ She _ had to hear that shite from someone who she used to care about.  _ She _ had to see those pictures. And whatever else Snape is, he was also her oldest friend. And he was the only tie she had left to her hometown. It was so bloody difficult for her, coming to school every year, where everyone was rich and privileged and had no inkling or understanding as to what it was like to be a scholarship student! And Snape, whatever else he was, he shared that with her. I’m just — Sirius, please, just try to see it from her perspective. Of course she hates who Snape became, of course it made her furious when he used slurs and treated people badly. But I also think she never quite gave up hope that he’d change, and become better, and become the person she thought she knew as a child. Can you really, honestly blame her for that? Can’t you remember what that feels like?”

Sirius felt the breath go out of him, as swiftly and painfully as if James and kicked him in the breastbone.  _ Was he really — was he really trying to compare —  _ no, it was too much. 

James seemed to realise he had taken it a step too far. He watched Sirius warily as he tried to find his breath. He was opening his mouth to speak again, but Sirius didn’t want to hear.

“James, has it ever occurred to you that it isn’t your job to defend everyone else all the time? She should have stopped waiting for him to change when he called the love of her life a racist slur. She should have stopped waiting for him to change well before that, when he was terrorising m — the gay kid and, and harassing girls who didn’t want to shag him. Like, c’mon man, I can see she had a blind spot, but why’s it taken her ten years to get over it?”

~

**Lily**

From where she was frozen halfway down the stairs, Lily listened to her husband come to her defence. And she felt another sick wave of shame rise up inside of her.

She could hear James saying something else in response, but she suddenly found she couldn’t bear to hear another word. She turned and tiptoed back up the stairs as quickly as possible, hiding herself in Harry’s nursery before her eavesdropping could be discovered. Harry was just waking up. When his mother walked into the room, he pulled himself up by the bars of his cot and smiled gummily at her. It made her want to cry.

She walked forward and picked him up, hugging him tight in her arms.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she whispered into this hair. “I’m so sorry.”

For nearly ten years now, she had been pushing away the obvious, and why? Because it was too painful to release that one, last tie to the girl she had been before she started asking for more, and left behind everything she had known? Or because she was too stubborn and embarrassed to admit she was wrong? James said it was the former. And oh, how she wanted to believe him. But part of her was terrified it was the latter. That in all her insistence on growth and independence and not caring what anyone else thought of her, she had forgotten how to admit weakness. 

Whatever the explanation was, it was not good enough.

Because now her husband was defending her, even though it was him, and his family, and his people, who Snape, and so many others like him, had tried their best to trod on for centuries. And here in her arms, her son, who looked so like his father, and who would face those same battles. Would she force him to face those battles without a mother at his side, a mother who could listen, and see, and put aside her own fears and insecurities in the name of fighting for something so much larger and more important than herself?

And then there was Sirius. Sirius, who was so clearly tearing himself up over  _ something _ . And who wouldn’t ask for help, and wouldn’t let them in. And who stuttered every time he mentioned Gideon, and Snape’s homophobia, and who she was sure — so sure — had just nearly admitted to having felt terrorised by that same bigotry himself. 

She had gotten lost, somewhere along the line, in her own fears of not being good enough, of simply not being enough. In her fear and her constant forward motion, she had stopped seeing other people with the same vividness with which she saw herself. 

But she would do better. She had to do better. 

~

That Monday on set, Lily watched the world unfold around her — not with the eyes of the director, but with the eyes of a mother, and a friend, and a child-self discarded long ago. And what she saw humbled her and saddened her. Because here was a vast machine working in the name of her vision, but she no longer trusted her own vision. And here were closest friends — Alice, and Remus, and Sirius — the people whom she had promised to love and defend and notice, but who lately she had treated only as more cogs in her artistic machine.

Sirius, since Saturday, had been treating her with a courteous politeness that was far worse than anger. Sirius was a fighter, and when he stopped fighting, it was either because he didn’t think you were worth it, or he didn’t think you would listen. She watched him go through the motions each day, approaching everyone with a facade of warmth and goodwill, but crumpling in on himself every time he had a quiet moment. His embodiment of Achilles was achingly truthful, to the extent that it was painful to watch. His every word dripped with the stoic acceptance of a tragic fate.

Remus, too, was seemingly falling apart. It was always hard to tell with Remus — unlike Sirius, he never wore anything on his sleeves. But she had known him for a long time now, and had seen him through some of the hardest parts of his life. And she knew how he looked when the shades of his past were growing louder than his living present. There were moments throughout the day when he would stop, and take a deep breath, and visibly press his feet harder into the ground, and she would wonder what darkness had seized him.

Alice, darling Alice, seemed to be doing just fine. Alice was never happier than when she had a consuming project, and whatever else  _ The Song of Achilles _ was turning out to be, it was certainly engaging to work on. But still, Lily promised herself she would check in with Alice soon. She had not been up to her usual standards of friendship these past few weeks.

As it happened, the time came to talk with Alice sooner than she could have hoped. Alice arrived at her trailer at the close of shooting on Monday, intent on reviewing the shot list for the next day.

“Er, Alice?” Lily began, unsure how to go about asking,  _ ‘has your life imploded this week and I didn’t notice because I’m such a self absorbed pig?’ _

“Hmm?” said Alice, from where she was bent over the next day’s plan.

“Are you, y’know, doing alright?”

“Hmm?” said Alice again. “Yeah, sure, I dunno. Hey, do you think we should switch Elijah’s close-up to the end of the day? So he has more time to warm up to it?”

“Yes, let’s do that. But I mean, like, really alright? Is everything going well with Frank? Is your mum doing ok?”

“Yes, Lily, I’m grand!” Alice said, her voice now tinged with amusement. “But you’re clearly not, so spill.” She turned her full attention to Lily, ignoring the list. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” insisted Lily. Alice looked unimpressed. “Well, yes, something, but it’s a waste of time. What do you think we should do about Omar’s speech tomorrow? I was thinking we’d do standard coverage, but maybe an arc shot could look cool instead?”

Alice rolled her eyes. “Obviously, let's do an arc shot. And it’s definitely not a waste of time, since you look miserable. So spill.”

Lily sighed. She should have foreseen this consequence. Alice, much like Lily, was not one to call off a hunt once she had caught the scent. 

“Sirius and I had a fight.”

“And?” Alice shrugged, as if to say  _ ‘what else is new?’ _ Lily and Sirius had had a particular gift for getting under one another’s skin since their early school days.

“It’s different this time. Because, well, I actually hurt him. And I think I’m actually in the wrong.”

Alice snorted. “Lily, it is not the first time you have been wrong during a fight with Sirius. And it’s not the first time you’ve hurt him, either. You two both have claws, it’s part of why you lot get along so damn well most of the time.”

“I have claws?” Lily asked, her voice betraying the insecurity she was feeling. She knew she was, well, tenacious. She wouldn’t have gotten where she was today were she not. But — well, she had always seen herself as someone who, on the surface at least, was kind and nurturing.

Alice was giving her an irritatingly sympathetic look. “Yes, love, you have claws. It’s one of the wonderful things about you. You are the fiercest defender anyone could ask for; you are loyal, and principled, and stubborn as hell. And I love it. And I know Sirius does too. And as your friends, we’re lucky to spend most of our time on the right side of your fire.” 

“But?” Lily could see there was more Alice had to say.

“But,” Alice allowed, “When someone gets on the wrong side, you have a bit of a tendency to throw flames first and ask questions later.”

Lily took this in. It was not an image of herself she was fully comfortable with. 

“What was the fight with Sirius about this time?” Alice asked.

“It was about… Severus.” Lily admitted.

Alice hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you still talk to him?” she asked.

“No!” said Lily. “Of course not, he was cruel and racist and — not a good friend, in the end.”

“So what was the fight about?”

“Well, just because I don’t agree with his beliefs or feel that he’s, you know, a person I want to associate with, that doesn’t mean I think he deserves to suffer, or deserves to be bullied. I don’t think anyone should be bullied. And I mean, I know it’s hard to see from the outside, but he never had an easy go of it either.”

“Is Sirius bullying him?” Alice asked, confused.

“No!” Lily exclaimed, agitation rising. “Of course not. He just keeps on defending the shite that he did in school, and I can’t believe he won’t admit that he was wrong!”

“Lils”, Alice said gently, “I think he  _ has _ admitted it was wrong. I’ve heard him and James say they used to take it too far. But, I mean, c’mon. Of course it wasn’t funny, but they were kids! And Snape gave back as good as he got. I feel like — Lily, don’t take this the wrong way — but I think maybe you’re holding on to this thing with Snape harder than anyone else is, at this point.”

“James basically said the same thing.” Lily felt the tears rising up, but she wouldn’t give in to them. She didn’t deserve to cry. “You’re right, you're both right! And I’ve been so awful, and I’ve defended him even though he called James  _ awful _ things. And what kind of wife and mother am I that I let that happen? And I’ve been so self absorbed, I didn’t see that Sirius was unhappy until he was taking it out on poor Elijah — and now I think Remus isn’t doing well either. And I haven’t asked you how you are for weeks! And James is doing all of Harry’s care, because I’m so wrapped up in everything else!” The tears, despite her best efforts, began to fall thick and fast. “And I’m just such a bad mother, and a bad wife, and a bad friend, and I don’t know what to do anymore!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Alice, moving around the table to wrap an arm around her. “You are not a bad mother, or a bad wife, or a bad friend, alright? You are allowed to absorb yourself in your passions from time to time. No one faults you for that.”

“But it’s not just that!” Lily wailed. “It’s been years! Where all I’ve cared about is myself, and my career, and my experience. Like, I was mad at Sirius because I thought he was making it harder for me to stay connected to Severus back in school. But that makes no sense! Because it was  _ Severus _ who made it impossible for us to stay connected; those were  _ his _ choices. But I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit, and my own sadness about Petunia and home and stuff, and so unwilling to ever admit that I’m wrong about anyone or anything, and now everyone is falling apart and it’s my fault! And I haven’t supported my husband enough, and I’m a terrible mother, and I’m — I’m selfish, I’m just selfish.”

‘Alright, Lily, enough of that,” said Alice, not unkindly. “You are not a selfish person, but you are being pretty self-absorbed about this situation right now. It is not all your fault, and you know that. The fact that you stand up for people, sometimes longer than they deserve it, does not make you a bad person. It is simply part of your loyalty and your belief in people’s potential for good. And I think Sirius knows that, because it’s absolutely benefited him in the past as well. 

“As far as being focused on your career these past years — please, do not apologise for that. If you were a man, you wouldn’t be thinking twice about it. You are a good friend, and no matter how busy you are, I have always felt that I could rely on you if I needed you for something. It is not your responsibility to make sure everyone is happy all the time, and if someone you love is struggling, it is just as much — if not more so — their responsibility to seek help and attention as it is for you to notice. Don’t underestimate the people you love, and don’t treat them like children. If Sirius wanted you to get involved with his issues, he’d tell you. You know that. 

“As for admitting that you’re wrong sometimes — well, alright then. That’s something you want to work on. I think that’s great. But just because you’re becoming more aware of something you want to change about yourself, doesn’t make you a bad person. Alright? So enough. You can be sorry, and you can be ready to change, but you can’t make it all about how you’ve failed, because you haven’t, and honestly, doing that is a bit selfish in and of itself. You’re a wonderful person, and I love you very much, but you don’t get to take credit for it when things go wrong in mine or anyone else’s life.”

Alice was giving her a very stern look, and one that felt alarmingly out of place on her usually open, sunny face. Lily, who was still absorbing the slew of words and insight that had just been thrown her way, didn’t speak. 

“Well,” Alice prodded. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” said Lily slowly. “I do understand. And I see that you’re right, for the most part. But —”

“But what?” Alice asked, fondly exasperated. “But you still think you need to self-flagellate a little more?”

“No!” Lily rolled her eyes, but the tears had stopped. “I just think, you know — you say I haven’t failed. And maybe you’re right, the battle isn’t over yet. But I do think it’s true I haven’t taken up the role I should have been taking. I’m white, and my husband isn’t. And nor is my son. And, well, I should have prioritised that above defending Severus, or trying to preserve any sort of goodwill for him.”

Alice nodded. “That’s fair, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” said Lily, exhaling a huge breath.

“Can we get back to work now?” asked Alice. “Because I’d really like to go back to being selfishly absorbed in my art.”

Lily gave a watery laugh. “Yes, we can do that.”

~

**Remus**

Remus could see that he wasn’t doing too well. It wasn’t that he was sad, or scared, or angry. He was simply drifting. He felt as if there was a veil separating him from the rest of the world. He moved through his life, and acted much as usual, laughing at jokes and supplying information and listening with interest when others spoke. But in every moment, he felt as if one hard gust of wind might blow the mirage of reality away. And so he grew afraid of even the slightest breeze.

He had taken to excusing himself from the more violent scenes they were shooting, keeping himself busy during those times by soliciting tasks from Marlena and Dinah in the props and costumes departments. 

He switched off the radio, put away the paper, or shut off his mobile at even the slightest suggestion of violent or intolerant news. 

When people raised their voices, even simply in excitement, he distanced himself. 

He stopped going out with the cast and crew in the evenings, citing tiredness and dwindling funds when his absence was met with dismay. 

At night, he could not sleep. He might doze for a couple of hours, but then he would invariably wake to a disturbing dream. He took to moving into the living room when he woke at night. He’d switch on the lamp, settle on the sofa, and reread the works of Jane Austen until morning light began filtering through the linen curtains. Then he’d start a pot of coffee, and when Marlena and Dinah rose for the day, he would act as if he had only just woken up himself. 

The problem with this was that Dinah apparently slept about as poorly as he did. Often, she’d wake up in the night to use the restroom, and Remus would hurriedly switch off the lamp when he heard her bedroom door creaking open. He wasn’t hiding, exactly. He just hated the feeling of other people’s concern, and it wasn’t as if there was anything they could do to help. 

On Thursday night, however, he failed to reach the lamp in time. Dinah stepped into the hallway, and, seeing his light, made her way towards the living room and kitchen, rather than the bathroom. 

“Remus?” she whispered. “You awake again, hon?”

“Again?” Remus asked, trying for confused and landing on panicked.

“You know I can see the light going out from behind the door, right?”

“Oh,” said Remus. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“I suppose not,” admitted Remus.

“Me either,” said Dinah. “It’s the damn hot flashes. They wake me up at 3:30 every night without fail.”

“Oh. That’s uh — not fun,” said Remus, unsure if this was the appropriate response. 

“No, it really isn’t,” agreed Dinah. “But, oh well, such is the circle of life and all that crap.”

Remus nodded slightly. He hoped she would go back to bed. He would need to find a different way to pass the long nights, now that the living room was no longer an option. Dinah, however, had taken the seat next to him on the sofa and showed no signs of leaving.

“Well, Remus, I hate to presume, but I don’t  _ think _ you’re menopausal. So what’s your excuse?”

Remus focused on seeming unbothered. “Oh, I’ve always had insomnia. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Dinah looked at him carefully. “I guess I’d have an easier time believing that if I’d been catching you in the living room in the middle of the night all summer, and not just this week. And if the circles under your eyes weren’t nearly black.”

Remus looked away from her, and tried not to let the frustration swelling up inside get the better of him. It was none of her business. He  _ hated _ this feeling of being watched. He  _ hated  _ it.

Dinah wasn’t letting up. “Remus. I am not saying this because I think you need my help, or because I don’t believe you are perfectly capable of sorting whatever this is out for yourself. I can see you are a very strong and capable person. It has been obvious since the day I met you. But it is also obvious there is something hurting you right now. I see it during the day in the props shop, and I see it every night as you try to hide your sleeplessness from us. So this is me, making you aware that I have noticed, and that you are not alone.”

Remus nodded stiffly. 

“Alright then,” said Dinah. “Well, I need to use the toilet. But then I think I will come back and sit with you for a while, if that’s alright. It is much cooler in here than in my bedroom.”

Remus nodded again. Dinah stood and made her way to the bathroom. Remus closed his eyes and leaned back until his head was resting on the back of the sofa. He listened to the water running in the bathroom, and tried to sort through his cluttered mind. 

~

The next night, Dinah joined him in the living room again. He made no pretence of switching off the light this time, resigned to her company. Maybe even looking forward to it, a bit. 

“What are you reading?” she asked him as she sat down.

“ _ Persuasion, _ ” he said, lifting the book to show her the cover.

“Oh, that’s a lovely edition,” she said. “Although I have to admit, I’ve never had much patience for Austen myself.”

Remus chuckled quietly. “Yeah, I love her, but she definitely isn’t always what I’m looking for. Times like this, though, she can be good. She’s not excessively — uh, stimulating, you could say. Or — maybe that’s not fair. Her stories are engaging, you know, they just exist very firmly in the realm of the mundane and the, er, manageable.”

“I do know what you mean,” said Dinah thoughtfully. “Although I don’t think I’ve sought that out in literature for a little while now. You may be relieved to hear that life has a way of getting more settled as you age. Or at least, it did for me.”

“That is good to hear,” Remus said wryly. ‘Life right now just feels — oh, I don’t know. I know what I want, but I have no idea how to get there. Or if it’s even possible. And my mind seems to be doing the best it can to show me how unlikely it is I’ll ever even have a chance to discover the answer.”

“What is it that you want?” Dinah asked.

“I want love,” replied Remus simply, and without giving himself a chance to second guess it. “I want strong, lasting, consuming connection. I want to trust someone else fully. I want to feel less alone. I guess I sound kind of naive and stupid. But that’s what I want.”

“You don’t sound naive at all,” said Dinah. “That’s exactly what I wanted too. And I got it. I don’t see why you shouldn’t believe you can one day have it, too.”

Remus shook his head. “Because I thought I had it once, and I was so completely wrong.”

“Oh, Remus,” said Dinah. “We all have false starts. Or, I suppose there are the lucky few who don’t, but they are very much in the minority. That doesn’t mean you are doomed forever.”

“That’s not really what I’m talking about,” said Remus, feeling his hackles rise and willing them back down again. 

Dinah didn’t look offended. She only nodded and returned to her own book. The room was quiet for a few moments, and then — 

“He was my first boyfriend, and I loved him, and I thought he loved me,” Remus began, without even registering that he had made the decision to do so. All he knew was that a dam was opening, and for the first time in a while, he felt compelled to let more out than he kept in. Dinah showed no surprise, only dog-earing her page and turning to face him completely.

“But no one in our village was out. It was a mining town, or used to be. Everyone had very — old fashioned beliefs, I guess. Being out really wasn’t something you did. You’d hear stories from time to time of someone who moved to the city and started “a deviant lifestyle”, but people talked about them like they’d died, or joined a cult, or something. 

“It was our final year of secondary school, and I was planning on going to university the next fall. And I wanted him to move with me. I loved him, and I thought we were going to be together forever. It was stupid. I pushed him too hard. I decided I was going to come out to my parents that last spring at home, so that maybe we’d have a chance to recover our relationship over the summer before I left. I wasn’t so naive as to believe they’d be immediately alright with it, but I thought they’d come around. 

“Tristan asked me not to tell anyone. He couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else knowing. I told him I wasn’t going to tell them about him, only me. But he was still scared. We were very close, and he was worried that if half the truth came to light, the rest would soon follow. He may not have been wrong.

“Anyway, I ended up telling him that what I told my parents was my choice and no one else’s. We were so in love, or so I believed, I thought that even if it hurt him for the short term, we would recover. And then we would go away, and I’d start university, and he’d get a job, and we’d finally, truly start our lives. 

“So I came out to my parents. And they didn’t take it well. My mam just cried. My da shouted a lot. He wanted me out of the house. Mam tried to stop him — she wasn’t happy with me, but she didn’t want to lose me. She thought we could talk it through. I dunno. Da ended up coming around to her side, but I was young and enraged and unwilling to spend another minute in their home if I wasn’t welcome there. I left.

“I went to Tristan’s house. I threw a pebble at his window. I thought it was romantic. I thought maybe we’d run away together. But it wasn’t him who came to the door. It was his older brother. And Mal wanted to know what I was doing, throwing rocks and crying at his brother’s window like a poofter. Tristan came down then, and Mal asked him if he knew why I was there. Tristan said he had no idea. Said I’d been annoying him for ages. Said I wouldn’t leave him alone.

“He was scared, I know he was. He’d told me he wasn’t ready, and I hadn’t listened. He told me he didn’t want to leave Wales, didn’t want to run away from everything he knew. I didn’t believe him. I had a story in my mind, and I didn’t see why real life wouldn’t go exactly as I planned it. I didn’t see that as much as he cared for me, his daily life and his community were more important to him. I didn’t see it at all.

“I shouted at him, told him he was lying, told him I knew he loved me. Soon, his whole family was awake. They all came to the door. They were all shouting, at me and at Tristan, trying to get to the bottom of things. Tristan just denied everything. I sounded like a lunatic. His da eventually ran me off the property, told me not to come back.

“I didn’t know where to go. I wandered around the village, but it was a small place. Soon, home began to seem like the only option after all. I started walking back, hoping to sneak in without waking my parents. I’d come up with a better plan in the morning.

“But they were waiting for me on the road that led to my house. Mal, and two of his friends. And Tristan, hiding behind them. I tried to run in the other direction, but it had rained a lot that week, and the road was slick. I slipped and fell. They were on me before I had a chance to stand. I, uh, well, I don’t know what happened next. I woke up in hospital a week later.

“I thought that was the end of it. My mam was waiting at my bedside. She told me she still loved me. She told me it was probably best if I left for uni sooner rather than later. I found a way to start my housing contract early, and left for Oxford as soon as I was healed enough to leave hospital. I stayed in halls through the summer with the graduate students.

“It took me a while to get help. I wasn’t sleeping, because I kept having nightmares, and I was barely eating, because food kept on making me feel sick. I lost so much weight, my belts didn’t work anymore. I could barely talk to anyone. I kept on having these spells where I thought I must be dreaming, like I was still somehow in my medical coma and I had to find a way back to consciousness. Everyday I had these moments of intense deja vu, where I was certain I had experienced everything before. I felt stuck. I got really scared. So I went to the school counselling services and they told me I had PTSD, and that what I’d been experiencing was called derealisation. They gave me medication. They set me up with a counsellor. That fall, I met Lily. I’ve figured out how to manage it since then. Most of the time, I don’t notice it at all.”

Remus looked up from his hands to find Dinah still watching him. There was no trace of pity on her face. If anything, she looked politely interested.

“But recently, it’s been harder?” she asked gently.

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, his voice a bit croaky. “It’s gotten a bit less manageable recently.”

Dinah nodded thoughtfully. “Any idea what’s causing it?”

Remus shrugged. “Well, I guess I sort of fell off on my self care a bit for a while when I first got here. You know, drinking too much, not sleeping enough.”

“Hmm,” said Dinah.

“And, well,” Remus hesitated. He was determined not to make the same mistake twice, but now that he had started speaking, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop until he had unburdened himself of the whole sorry tale. He proceeded carefully. “I suppose there’s someone who I’ve felt — very connected to, recently. And who has shown me they are interested in me, as well. But, well, he isn’t out. And he’s scared, I think, to come out. And I just can’t be around that fear again. I can’t. It’s too much. And I like him too much to only have something casual and secret. I don’t trust myself enough not to get attached, and start spinning a fairytale again.”

Dinah was still sitting serenely, but she had a shrewd look on her face. “Have you shared these concerns with him?”

Remus shook his head quickly. “Of course not. It wouldn’t be fair to him, to lay this all on him. It would feel like I was pressuring him to come out, or something. I’m never going to do something like that again.”

“Oh, baby,” Dinah sighed. “Is it alright if I give you a hug?”

Remus nodded stiffly. Dinah slid over on the couch and enveloped him in her strong arms. He leaned into the embrace. It felt wonderful. Dinah began speaking again into his hair.

“I think it’s worth sharing with him where you’re coming from, love. You’re not pressuring him, you’re just sharing your point of view. He’ll be grateful for it, especially If he likes you as much as you like him, which I have a hard time believing he wouldn’t. Then let him make his own decisions, and let him share his story, too. You don’t do anyone any favours by making their choices for them. Take it from another anxious queer who’s made that very mistake too many times to count.”

Remus, his head still leaning on Dinah’s shoulder, admitted the other nagging fear that had been plaguing him.

“I — I walked away from him, last week. I told him I had made a mistake. It was so — it was so unfair of me, to do that to him. Especially since he’s not out yet. What if I scared him deeper into the closet? What if he thinks I’m not interested in him at all? What if I’ve ruined everything?”

Dinah, to Remus’ surprise, chuckled. “God, that sounds like something I would’ve done, once. Something tells me he’ll forgive you, if you want him to.”

“Of course I want him to!” Remus exclaimed, forgetting for a moment that it was the middle of the night and that he had hardly spoken above a whisper in more than five days. 

Dinah laughed again. “Well, then, I think it’s very likely he’ll forgive you. Just show him the same heat you just showed me.”

Remus, despite himself, felt a blush spread up his neck. He sat up, finally looking Dinah in the eye again. 

Dinah looked back, her gaze stern again. “And tell him soon, because I doubt he’s feeling very good about himself right now. I certainly wouldn’t want to hear you tell me I was a mistake, and I don’t even swing in your direction!”

Remus flushed deeper, but the weight of guilt and fear in his stomach grew heavier, as well. 

“Thank you,” he said to Dinah. “For listening to me. And for talking some sense into me.”

“Oh Remus,” Dinah replied, smile warm and tired, “You did it all on your own. I didn’t tell you anything you didn’t already know.”

“What do you mean?” asked Remus, surprised. “I’ve been — I’ve been completely lost, this week.”

“I’m not saying you  _ knew _ you knew it. I’m just saying, if you didn’t already know, you wouldn’t have believed me so quickly. Most of the time, the answer just sounds more obvious out of someone else’s mouth.” She picked her book back up. From behind it, she said, “And, well, I don’t think you’d be having such a hard time right now, if you really believed you were through with each other.”

~

**Sirius**

Sirius was not through with Remus. He was confused, and frustrated, and more than a little sad, and not even a tiny bit certain, but above all, he definitely wasn’t finished. 

Life at the villa was uncomfortable. Lily was being quiet and submissive, which was incredibly unusual. Sirius didn’t know how to talk to her. He wanted to shake her until she started shouting at him again, as was their norm. He knew he ought to be gratified, that she was finally feeling a bit apologetic for how she’d acted vis-a-vis Snape all this time. But honestly, there was nothing satisfying about it. Lily didn’t feel like Lily if she wasn’t being confident and fierce and a touch caustic. James’ words echoed in him, and he couldn’t help but feel that maybe he had misjudged where, exactly, Lily’s defence of Snivellus arose from. 

James, the prince, was showing more patience to his wife and his best mate than either of them probably deserved. He kept conversation running smoothly through supper each evening, somehow making each of them feel like he was completely on their side. Which Sirius would have thought was literally impossible. Unless, of course, this was another case of what James liked to call “Sirius and Lily in violent agreement”. And well, Sirius certainly didn’t feel like Lily was agreeing with him. So he dismissed that idea.

Life on set was not much better. Lily remained a capable and confident director, which was a relief considering her reticence at home. But Remus was seemingly everywhere he looked. And the discomfort of that experience was enough to wash away any and all positives.

He ceased his lunching with Elijah, as he always sat with Remus and Genevieve. He felt slightly guilty about this, since he had a feeling it meant something to the younger actor that Sirius was being so friendly to him. But, well, he really didn’t trust himself to function around Remus at this point. He took to eating with Omar instead.

Omar was very funny and very astute in his observations, and he did his best to keep Sirius suitably distracted with his thoughts on any and everything. He loved to expound on the twin natures of comedy and drama. He knew more about Greek theatre than anyone Sirius had ever met, and could compare the works of Aeschylus and Aristophanes until the cows came home. Indeed, Sirius doubted he would ever forget Omar’s description of the classical narrative structure, which he compared vividly to a male orgasm. Sirius had given a genuine laugh at that; his first in a while.

However, as distracting as Omar undoubtedly was, Remus was endlessly more so. Which was unfair, really, seeing as Remus wasn’t talking to him at all. 

Remus wasn’t really talking to much of anyone. He had always been fairly unassuming as a presence on set, speaking only on occasion in order to deliver intelligent insights or devastatingly witty critiques. This week, however, he was being quiet even by his usual standards. There was nothing observably wrong with him, his face never betraying unhappiness of any kind. And he still did his job with finesse, always supplying the most relevant information and never making anyone feel stupid. Really, Sirius could hardly put his finger on it, whatever it was making him feel so certain that Remus was anything less than perfectly okay. It was just  _ there _ . And between that  _ thereness _ , and his own personal stake in the question that was Remus, Sirius rarely found the capacity for any thought that wasn’t about the man in question. 

In the time since The Kiss (Sirius had taken to capitalising it in his head, for the sake of clarity) Sirius had had a chance to put his thoughts in order. It was not something he made the effort to do very often, generally preferring that things stay pleasantly fuzzy. But this was Important, and once something became Important, there was little chance of turning back. More to the point, once Sirius made a decision, he was not very likely to second guess himself.

And he had decided — on that angry, tipsy, frightened night, less than a week ago — that Remus was a priority. Because here was someone who saw what others refused to see, and who witnessed the world with compassion. And Sirius, for all he knew he missed in the day-to-day rush of people and things and responsibilities and disappointments, could not fail to notice the beauty and eloquence that was Remus Lupin. Now that he was finally admitting to his years of letting beautiful things pass him by, Sirius was not about to let it happen again. At least, not without putting up a fight. 

That was why, when he was done getting out of costume and makeup on Thursday, the first thing Sirius did was to seek out Kristy. She knew everything that went on around set, and she would know where he could find Remus. 

“Kristy!” Sirius called out when he caught sight of her outside the audio van. “Just the person I was hoping to see!”

Kristy whipped around in surprise, her braids swinging with the sudden motion. “Mr. Black!”, she squeaked. “What can I do for you?”

“Call me Sirius, Kristy. And if you could point me towards Remus, I’d really appreciate it. I had a question for him.”

“Sure, one moment.” She pulled the walkie-talkie off her belt and spoke into it. “Ewan? Kristy here. Do you know if Mr. Lupin is still on set?”

A moment later, the radio crackled in response, and Ewan’s tinny voice issued out of it. “Remus is meeting with the director in her trailer.”

“Great! Thanks, Ewan.” Kristy turned to Sirius. “Mr. Lupin is with Ms. Evans Potter in her trailer.”

“Right-o. Cheers!” 

Sirius left before Kristy had another chance to call him by his last name. He was halfway to Lily’s trailer when he remembered he really didn’t want to talk to Lily. Nor did he want Lily to know he had anything in particular to say to Remus. He slowed his steps but kept walking forwards. He knew he was liable to explode if he didn’t speak with Remus soon. He also knew that he had absolutely no idea what he was actually going to say when the time came. All day, he’d been running speeches through his mind. Every one of them came out wrong, each either too angry, or too whiny, or far, far too honest. 

When he reached the trailer with a large number two emblazoned on its side, he hesitated at the bottom of the steps. He could hear voices emanating from inside, although he could not make out what was being said. There was laughter, though, which seemed to bode well. Although, there was always the chance that Remus would be irritated that Sirius was interrupting his time with Lily. Or that they were actually having a laugh at Sirius’ expense. Or that they weren’t laughing at all, and Remus just had a peculiar way of yelling when he was irritated with people named Sirius. Mmm, yes. That seemed likely. Sirius had just about decided to leave and try again another day — what was the worst thing that could happen if he delayed? The image of a headline declaring ‘Sirius Black has another tantrum on set of Achilles flick’ flashed through his mind, reiterating for him once again that imagining worst case scenarios was never as reassuring as one hoped. 

While he was still trying to make up his mind, the door swung open and Remus stepped outside, followed closely by Lily. He froze when he saw Sirius waiting for him. 

“Why aren’t you moving, Re,” came Lily’s voice, and then, when she caught sight of Sirius: “Oh.”

“Uh, hi,” said Sirius. 

“Hi,” said Remus.

“Hi,” said Lily. “Were you, ah, looking for me?” She looked almost nervous.

“Ye— no.” 

“No?” asked Lily.

“No,” agreed Sirius. And then, ignoring every instinct in his body telling him to run in the opposite direction, he tacked on, “I was hoping to catch a word with Remus, actually.”

“Oh,” said Lily again, obviously surprised. Sirius snuck a glance at Remus. He didn’t seem surprised, but he did appear faintly apprehensive. Sirius swallowed down the bile that was creeping up his throat.

Lily, too, looked at Remus, her eyebrows raised high in question. 

Remus stared at Sirius for another moment, then turned to Lily and said easily, “Oh, yes. I told Sirius I’d give him some extra background on funeral rites before that scene we’re shooting tomorrow. Did you need anything else from me today?”

Lily shook her head mutely, still glancing curiously between Sirius and Remus. 

“Right. I’ll see you tomorrow, then!” said Remus. He gave Lily a brief hug and then made his way down the stairs. When he had landed in front of Sirius, he said, “Shall we go to your trailer, then?” 

Sirius bobbed his head numbly. It took him a moment to remember where his trailer was. Then he recalled it was conveniently situated just next door. Obviously. He only remembered to say goodbye to Lily after he had taken a couple steps towards it. He swung around to wave goodbye and nearly hit Remus in the face. 

Remus put a hand out as if to steady him, but quickly pulled it back again. He gave Sirius a shifty smile, then shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, and the pair of them concluded their short walk to the other trailer in silence. 

It wasn’t until they were safely inside the metal walls, the door latched behind them, that Sirius allowed himself to speak. 

“I, er, wanted to —”

Remus interrupted him. “Before you say anything, I just want to apologise. I shouldn’t have left like that the other night, and I shouldn’t have said that it was a mistake to kiss you. You have every right to be furious with me, but I just need you to know that I know how I handled that situation was wrong, and I’m sorry, and I’d like to explain myself if you’ll give me the chance.”

Sirius gaped at him. “i’m not furious!”

“You’re not?” Remus asked.

“No, of course not! Or, well, I was, for a minute. Or an hour, I suppose. But then I figured you must have had a reason. And then I just felt badly for — uh, for kissing you, y’know, without asking first. And then I was… worried, I’s'pose, that it had been really rubbish. And now I guess I just, well, I was just hoping we could talk about it. Because I like you, Remus. I really like you.”

Having said all this, he snapped his jaw shut and stared down at his feet.  _ Damn, damn, damn _ . He sounded like a nutter. He sounded completely pathetic. He sounded like everything he’d been trying to avoid in every one of his rehearsals that day. He had never banked on Remus speaking first.

“I like you too,” came Remus’ soft reply. Sirius whipped his head back up. 

“You do?” Sirius asked, his voice horribly creaky. 

“Yes!” said Remus. “I have — I have for a long time. I have since before I met you.”

“Really?” asked Sirius.

“Really,” said Remus.

Sirius let this sink in. 

_Remus liked him!_ _Remus liked him, too! Remus had liked him even before they met!_

But then why had he run away after their kiss?

Remus displayed his usual gift of being able to read Sirius’ mind. “I do like you, Sirius, but I still don’t know if it was wise of me to kiss you back.”

The balloon of hope that had been expanding in Sirius’ chest popped. 

“Why?” he asked, his voice thin and hopeless.

“Is it alright if we sit down?” asked Remus, gesturing to the couch.

Sirius dipped his head in jerky agreement. Remus took a seat on the far left of the sofa. Sirius mirrored him on the far right. 

“Why was it unwise?” he asked again.

Remus gave him a sad, searching look. Sirius made himself look back, although all he wanted was to hide his face in the cushions and never see that look of pity on Remus’ face again. 

Finally, Remus spoke. 

“Sirius, what you need to understand about me is, I’ve had some bad experiences in my life. And they’ve made me very careful about… about most things. And as much as I like you — and I do, I really, really do — I don’t know that I can open myself up to — to all that being… involved with you might entail.”

Sirius took this in. “It’s because of the damn fame thing, isn’t it?”

Remus hesitated before responding. “I — I suppose that’s part of it, yes. I… my past experiences have made me very, uhh, leery of hiding myself or my sexuality. I had a hard time when I first came out. Being out and open is very important to me. I don’t think it would be — healthy, I suppose, for me to hide a relationship. And Sirius, if we were together, that is what I would want with you. A relationship. I’m not looking for anything casual.”

Sirius listened hard, but he wasn’t sure he could see the problem. “You wouldn’t have to hide with me,” he said finally.

Remus, to his surprise, laughed. “Well, wouldn’t I? You’re not  _ out _ , Sirius. You — you jumped about a mile because you thought you heard someone else on the beach that night. You looked terrified.”

“Well, I’ve grown pretty wary of photographers! It’s hard not to be in my line of work. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to — to tell people, eventually!” Sirius heard his voice growing louder, and tried to calm himself. But this was important, this was too important, and Remus didn’t understand. 

Remus had that pitying look on his face again. It was wretched. “Sirius,” he said calmly, “have you — you been able to say the words yet? Even to yourself?”

“What words?” Sirius asked, but he had a sinking suspicion he knew exactly which words Remus meant.

“I’m gay,” said Remus, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if Sirius’ heart wasn’t beating right out of his chest at the mere thought of repeating after him. 

“Why does that matter?” Sirius rasped out. “Why does it matter if I can say it? I like you. I like you so much.”

“It matters because it means you’re not ready yet. You’re not ready to come out yet. And that’s fine. That’s more than fine. Everyone —  _ everyone _ — deserves to do that at their own pace. And I would never, ever want to pressure you to do that before you’re ready. But, Sirius, I really can’t hide. I can’t. I did it once before. It nearly killed me.”

“But I will be ready,” Sirius nearly whimpered. “If I had a reason, I could get ready. I could do that. I could do that for you.”

“You hardly know me, Sirius,” Remus said, as if he were sharing bad news with a child. “You shouldn’t do something like that for someone else. And you definitely shouldn’t do that for someone you barely know.”

Sirius felt as if he might vibrate apart in frustration.  _ Remus didn’t understand. He didn’t understand! _ Sirius had made his mind up. When he did that, he never went back. This wasn’t a whim, and it wasn’t a split-second decision. It was something he had been leading up to for years, whether he had known it at the time or not. Meeting Remus had merely been the final nudge he needed; the catalyst he had been waiting for, unknowingly, for years.

“Listen to me, Sirius,” Remus was saying. Sirius lifted his chin to look him in the eye again. 

“I’m not going to get involved with someone who isn’t out, and I’m not going to let you make that decision for my sake. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. We can get to know each other. We can learn about one another. And then, maybe, one day, if we’re both single, and you feel ready, then, maybe, we can try.”

“I don’t want to be friends,” Sirius bit out. “I want more than that.”

Remus sighed deeply. “Friends… friends is what I have to offer right now. That’s what I have.”

Sirius leaned back on the couch. He moved his head from side to side, wedging it deeper into the gap between the cushions. Remus, from what he could see at this angle, was sitting very still and very straight against the back of the couch. He was waiting, it seemed, for Sirius’ response.

“Fine,” Sirius said, reminding himself unfortunately of a petulant child. “Let’s be friends.”

Remus laughed. “You could sound a little less like I’m trying to poison you!”

Sirius sat upright again, and gave Remus a glare that kept trying to turn into a smile. “I’ll be your friend, but I don’t have to be happy about it.”

Remus shrugged. “People rarely are. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What?” Sirius turned to look at Remus head on, utterly offended. “Having you as a friend is probably the second best thing anyone could ask for!”

“Oh? What’s the first best thing?” Remus asked, smiling. Then the smile slipped. “Oh, right.”

“Right.” said Sirius. He rolled his eyes and looked away.

Remus leaned over and elbowed him, making him look up again. “I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?”

“I’s'pose so,” agreed Sirius. “But I know I’m right.”

“I hope so,” said Remus.

**~ TBC ~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! Your comments mean the world to me. I am so blow away by the response to this fic :)


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi loves! Here's chapter seven <3
> 
> CW for this chapter:  
> brief panic attack described near the end of the chapter -- shouldn't be too rough but be safe and kind to yourself!

**Sirius**

Being friends with Remus Lupin was simultaneously the hardest and the easiest thing Sirius had ever done. It was easy because Remus was funny, and smart, and kind, and painfully insightful, and extraordinarily perceptive. It was hard for all those same reasons. And also because Remus was perhaps the most magnetic person Sirius had ever met.

But they were doing it.

Remus was clearly trying hard to show him how genuinely he had meant his offer of friendship. It might even have come across as embarrassing if Sirius hadn’t found it so pathetically reassuring. They were back to sharing meals on set — Sirius roped Omar into the mix, feeling that if anyone would appreciate his particular breed of eccentricity, it would be Remus. So lunchtimes were a cheerful rabble of Elijah, Genevieve, Omar, Remus, and, more often than not, Lily. She, too, was clearly trying very hard these days where Sirius was concerned. 

Somehow, her efforts weren’t as endearing.

But it was during filming itself that the greatest changes were apparent: whereas before Remus would only speak when spoken to, he now made a point of sidling up to Sirius in between takes and making quiet observations about everything and everyone on set. Somehow, he was simultaneously hysterical and good natured, and it never failed to spread warmth into every one of Sirius’ fingers and toes. Sirius had worked in comedy for years, but he had never met someone who managed to be both uproariously funny and so genuinely patient with the imperfections of the world. 

Kindness was so often seen as a weakness in this field, but watching Remus, Sirius could only view it as a superpower.

On Friday evening, Sirius went to dinner with Remus and Genevieve. Although they got off to a rocky start — Genevieve was obviously still harbouring some lukewarm feelings for Sirius, and he couldn’t blame her in the slightest — they found their footing as soon as Genevieve discovered that Sirius, too, spoke French. Throughout the rest of the meal, they had teased Remus by quoting translated  _ One Direction  _ lyrics and pretending they were really sharing secrets and jokes. Remus had been satisfyingly irritated by their antics, and had even given Sirius three (three!) shoves on the arm at various moments whilst telling the pair of them off. 

It had come to bite Sirius in the arse, though, because in revenge, Remus had cussed them both out rather mightily in Welsh. The words sounded like the gurgling of a brook as they poured from Remus’ mouth, and every time is happened, Sirius found himself struck dumb for at least five seconds. 

Then, on Saturday, Remus had invited Sirius for coffee and sightseeing. They had met up at Remus’ favourite spot in town. It was less cafe and more hole-in-the-wall where if one asked very nicely and didn’t mind waiting upwards of twenty minutes, they might receive the best shot of espresso of their life. 

“Sorry ‘bout this,” said Remus sheepishly, as their wait passed its eighteenth minute. “They’re very slow, but I promise the coffee is worth it. I didn’t even know coffee could taste like this.”

Sirius, who could not think of a single reason to complain about sharing a tiny table on a quiet side street, inhaling the aroma of coffee and watching the sun light up Remus’ deceptively brown hair in dazzling shades of red and gold, just shrugged. “You can’t rush art,” he said.

Remus gave a surprised laugh. “No, I suppose you can’t.”

Their coffees finally came a couple minutes later. The purveyor walked through the narrow doorway with two tiny cups in one hand and placed them wordlessly on the rickety metal table.

“Thank you!” said Sirius warmly.

The cafe owner only raised his eyebrows distrustfully at the pair of them, then turned and made his way back inside. 

“He’s not very friendly, sorry,” said Remus, looking vaguely embarrassed.

Sirius shook his head, unbothered. “Why should he be friendly? I’ve never understood the obsession with, I dunno” — he waved his hand vaguely — “pandering service. Why should that be part of it? His job is to make good coffee.” He sipped the espresso. It was dark and nutty and curiously reminiscent of cherries. He couldn’t hold back his groan of satisfaction. “And he’s doing a bang up job of it.”

After they had finished their coffees — or rather, after Remus had downed his own in about two sips and then waited while Sirius savoured his more gingerly — they made their way towards the ruins that were scattered around the city centre. 

As they left the quiet side street and entered the main thoroughfare, Sirius pulled a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and quickly slipped both on. He also tugged the hood of his jumper forwards until it rested on the brim of his cap, shrouding his entire face in shadow. He could see that he was going to get a bit overheated, but it was far preferable to the alternative.

Remus looked on in amusement. “Won’t you melt?” he asked. “It’s nearly thirty degrees today.”

Sirius threw Remus a look, unsure how to answer his question without sounding unbearably conceited. Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“Oh,” said Remus. “Right. I always forget. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise!” Sirius replied earnestly. “God, please don’t. It’s wonderful that you forget. I wish everyone would.” 

He looked around the sunny, cobbled street, taking in the bored locals and the excitable tourists. They all looked terribly at ease. He could hardly remember feeling that way. Maybe he never had. 

“I wish  _ I _ could,” he added.

Remus looked him over carefully, a peculiar aura colouring his features.

“What?” Sirius asked, growing more self-conscious by the second. 

“Nothing,” said Remus. “You’re just always surprising me, is all.”

“How so?” Sirius pressed, a sickly weight sinking in his stomach.  _ Was he coming across conceited? Did he look like he was asking for the attention? _

Remus shrugged. “You just seem so — natural, I s’pose. With the attention. I mean, I can see it bugs you sometimes, if you’re having a bad day or whatnot. But, well, it’s been a good day, hasn’t it? I sort of expected you to enjoy the, er, acknowledgements. Of fame. Or what-have-you. It seems fun.”

Sirius thought about this. Remus wasn’t wrong, exactly. There were times when it was very gratifying, to hear from a stranger that his work had meant something to them. And Sirius wasn’t exactly a humble man. He was self aware enough to admit that he enjoyed praise, and even admiration. But, well, the further Sirius moved down this path he was on, the less it felt like the attention he received had any correlation to the work he did, or to the person he was trying so hard to be.

He said as much to Remus. “These days,” he added, “fans just come up to me and want to take selfies to post on the internet. And I understand that impulse — I really do. I did the same sort of shite with musicians and stuff when I was a kid. But it’s so easy now, to take those photos and just spread them around. I don’t even learn the names of about ninety percent of the people who come up to me. It just feels sort of, I dunno, dehumanised. It makes me feel like I’m part of the machine. Or, I guess, it reminds me that I  _ am _ part of the machine. And I’ve always fucking hated the machine.”

Remus was still watching him, brow furrowed, clearly thinking hard. Finally, he spoke, his words slow and measured. “You want success, but you don’t want to be complicit in replicating broken systems. But all of the systems that create success are broken.”

Sirius felt all the wind leave his lungs. Here, now, in just two sentences, this quiet, mysterious man had encompassed every broken feeling he’d had in the past ten years. Horribly, he felt tears spring to his eyes. Then he recalled he was wearing sunglasses, and so he let them pool. He bobbed his head in agreement, not trusting his voice. 

“Well,” said Remus. “What I would say to that is, you have more power than you think you do. And more people rooting for you than you could imagine.”

They said no more on the topic of fame that day. Remus, showcasing once again his preternatural ability to perceive Sirius’ feelings, redirected their conversation by going on a very long, rambling tangent about the social function of bathhouses in the ancient world. 

When Sirius’ disguise proved inadequate for warding off the most die-hard gawkers, the rushed photoshoots and sweaty side-hugs were far easier to bear than usual. Something about Remus’ presence at his side, and his bracing words, which still echoed in Sirius’ mind, buoyed him through every frustration of the day. 

He didn’t quite know what Remus had meant yet, when he had said,  _ ‘you have more power than you think’ _ . But he knew that there was something there worth exploring. And for the first time in a long time, he was blessed with the fickle grace of hope. 

~

On Sunday morning, Sirius woke to midday sunshine filtering in through his curtains. It was his first lie-in for more than two weeks. It was marvellous. He blinked happily and nestled more deeply into his duvet. James had been right, the week before — his duvet was excellent: lofty but light, swathed in cool cotton. 

He allowed himself a few more moments of blissful bonelessness, then rolled over and reached for his mobile where it was charging on his bedside table. He looked at the screen, taking nothing in for a few witless seconds. Then, when the information displayed there finally landed, he sat up so abruptly that he experienced a head rush and had to lean back. In doing so, he knocked his head hard against the bedstead, and then proceeded to swear loudly as stars swam in front of his eyes. 

Once the worst of the pain had passed, he carefully pushed himself upright and reread the messages on his lock screen, rubbing the tender bump that had formed on the back of his head as he went. 

He had thirty-two unread messages from his PR rep, Kim. The most recent one read:

_ I’m calling you at 12:30, your time. You had better be up and caffeinated by then. _

He checked the time. It was noon. Ok, he had thirty minutes. That was manageable.

His agent, Jonathan, was next on the list of notifications. The top message there read:

_ Don’t panic, we have a plan. _

The third notification was from an unknown number.

_ Hi, Sirius. This is Rita Skeeter at the Prophet. Do you have any comment on the breaking news about your brother? Give me a call! _

The fourth notification was from James.

_ It’s going to be fine, Pads. I read the release and I don’t think it’s as bad as it seems. Just typical media exaggeration, we’ve all had worse. Me and Lily are downstairs with Harry whenever you’re ready to come down. We have hot food and coffee. _

The fifth notification was from Remus, and had been delivered at eight-thirty that morning.

_ Hey, just checking in to see if you wanted to visit that temple I mentioned yesterday? I did more reading about it last night… it sounds INCREDIBLE. The fountain there has been running continuously for more than two thousand years… something about an underwater spring?? _

And the sixth notification, a Google alert for the name Regulus Black, was marked as having come in at six that morning. This was the notification he tapped on first, holding his breath in the endless seconds it took for the Chrome app to launch. Finally, the page loaded. It was an article from  _ The Guardian _ .

… 

**_Prominent Violinist Regulus Black, Brother to Hollywood Darling Sirius, falls ill in the middle of symphony performance, is heard yelling about family conflict_ **

_ On Friday evening, during a performance of Mahler’s Symphony No. 2 with the London Philharmonic Orchestra, principal violinist Regulus Black fled the stage during the infamous five-minute pause between the first and second movements, which was described by the composer as an invitation to “stare into the face of emptiness”.  _

_ What was first construed as a dramatic flourish designed by the symphony’s eccentric conductor Sir Simon Rattle was quickly revealed to be an unplanned crisis, as stage managers and even the conductor himself ran after the distraught musician.  _

_ Mr. Black did not return to the stage for the second movement, and the remainder of the concert was played by Mr. Black’s understudy, Dionne Shaw. Sir Rattle briefly explained to the confused patrons that Mr. Black was suffering from a stomach complaint, and would return to his post when he was fully recovered. _

_ The event might have been brushed off as a fluke, were it not for the raised voices heard emanating from the Barbican Centre’s lobby during the fourth movement.  _

_ While at first unclear what was causing the disruption, the truth soon became obvious when a woman was heard shouting about “a cruel disappointment” and “the legacy of the Black family”. _

_ At this point, The Guardian’s music critic excused himself from the concert hall in order to follow the real performance of the evening, which was, by all accounts, now taking place in the lobby. _

_ There, our critic found the younger Mr. Black deep in confrontation with his parents, the successful financier Orion Black and his socialite wife, Walburga. The pair had evidently been in attendance that evening, and were displeased by “the display” made by their younger son.  _

_ Mrs. Black was heard screaming that she “thought that they had trained that weakness out of him” and that she could not believe her son was still “as spineless at the age of twenty-four as he had been at the age of six”.  _

_ Whether this is an appropriate response to a stomach ache, we leave to our readers to decide. What remains true is that this is not the first time the Black family has garnered attention for their less-than-harmonious relationships. _

_ It’s widely known that Sirius Black is estranged from his family. In an interview at the Golden Globes two years ago, he stated, “I don’t talk to my parents much. They have very different values than I do.” Mr. Black has refused to elaborate on these comments since, although his outspoken support of left-wing candidates and his vocal backing of various liberal causes serve to flesh out the reasons behind the rift. The senior Mr. Black, of course, has always been staunchly conservative in his politics.  _

_ Asked once what he thought of his younger brother’s success in the world of classical music, Sirius Black did provide a comment. He is quoted as saying, “I’m happy for Regulus that he’s been able to achieve at such a high level in the classical music industry. I know it makes our parents very proud.” _

_ Severus Snape, an oboist for the London Philharmonic, was more forthcoming. “Reg has always been an odd one,” he said. “We’ve been wondering for a while, really, when it would begin to affect performances. I’m hopeful Sir Rattle will see this mishap for what it is, and consider delegating a new principal violin. It’s been clear for some time now that Regulus was only given the place because of his family name.” _

_ We shall see if this latest bump in the road for the Black family brings anything new to light. The Black family representative was contacted by The Guardian, but declined to comment. Similarly, Sirius Black’s representatives have thus far declined to comment.  _

_ …  _

Oh, god. Sirius felt sick to his stomach. It was one thing that the media was bringing his sordid history with his parents back into the light — it had been too much to hope, really, that it could ever be put to bed for good. Not when it generated such intriguing headlines. 

But now they were dragging Regulus in, as well? It was too much. As complicated as his feelings for his baby brother were, he had never wished to see him as fodder for the ruthless new cycle.

And fucking Snape. How petty did you have to be, to let a childhood grudge influence your treatment of someone’s  _ sibling  _ as an adult? Snape was spewing utter shite. Regulus was the most talented violinist Sirius had ever heard. There were times that he had hated his brother for it, but it was a truth that could never be denied. 

He checked the time again. 12:15. Feeling that he had better get up and face the music, Sirius rolled out of bed and pulled a tee shirt over his head. Ignoring the state of his hair — egregious, and not even stylishly so — he traipsed down stairs.

Lily and James were sitting on the sofa, Harry playing on the carpet at their feet.

“Hey, mate!” James said, his voice aggressively light hearted.

“How’re you doing?” Lily added, her voice obnoxiously sympathetic. 

Ignoring them both, Sirius made a bee-line for his godson.

“Hello, Harry-berry,” he cooed, tickling the boy on his onesie'd stomach. “How are YOU today!”

Harry giggled shrilly, and Sirius felt something inside of him untwist slightly.  _ Everything was shite, but not EVERYTHING was shite. _

He turned to look at Lily and James, Harry cuddled in his arms. 

“Kim’s calling in fifteen. Do we have any coffee left?”

Lily leapt up immediately and bustled into the kitchen. James, never one to be shrugged off easily, gave Sirius a hard look.

“It really will be alright,” he said. “I promise you.”

Sirius was inexplicably enraged at James’ soothing tones. “You can’t promise me anything!” he growled, barely managing to keep from shouting. “As if you even know what this feels like! With your bloody perfect family!”

James didn’t flinch. Holding eye contact, he said, “They’re your family, too, Pads.”

“No.” Sirius said. “This is Regulus we’re talking about, James.  _ He’s _ my family. And they’re putting him through the mill.” Before he could do anything to stop it, his voice was breaking. “How could I leave him there, Jamie? How could I do that?”

Lily reentered then, an enormous, hot mug cradled carefully in both her hands. She stood still some paces away, looking at Sirius with the most pained expression on her face.

“Sirius,” she said. “You needed to take care of yourself. You needed to do what was best for you. You can’t control what happens with Reg. It’s not your job. It’s never been your job.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Lily,” he spat back at her. “Why are you even trying? We all know you’d rather run off and comfort Snivellus.”

Lily didn’t rise to his bait. She didn’t swell with rage and indignation, as she so often was wont to do. She didn’t give Sirius the explosion he so badly desired. She simply took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“That’s not true,” she said. “And you know it. But that’s not the issue right now.” She walked over to the sofa and sat again beside her husband. She placed the coffee cup gently on the table, then leant over and tenderly retrieved her son from Sirius’ arms. “The issue right now is you, and how we’re going to get you through this. Did Kim say anything about the approach they’re taking?”

Sirius shook his head mutely. 

“Well,” said Lily. “Do you have any ideas about what you want to do about it?”

Sirius shrugged, defeated. “I don’t care what this does to me,” he said. “I just want to find a way to protect Regulus.”

Lily opened her mouth to speak again, but James put a cautioning hand on her arm. He then turned back to Sirius. “I know it feels that way right now, mate, but you do care what this does to you. You care what questions you’re asked during interviews for the next five years. And you care about whether this takes attention away from your projects. You know you care about that. So right now, we have to think about it.”

Sirius hated the truth he heard in James’ words. They felt like another nail in the coffin that was his unforgivable selfishness. But he couldn’t deny them.

He was saved answering James when his mobile started ringing. The display showed that Kim was FaceTiming him. Ten minutes early. Typical. 

He swiped his thumb across the screen to answer.

“Hi,” he said curtly, once her face had appeared. “What’s the plan?”

“Good afternoon to you, too, Sirius,” she replied. “I’m well, thanks for asking.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. So, what’s the plan? What do I say to those arseholes?”

“I don’t think you should address it head on. That will just make it seem like you are open to talking about it, I don’t think we want to create that impression. I say we release a statement reiterating your independence from your family and your disparate political views. That way, we have something to point to if anyone tries to drag you into the drama, but we don’t have to come out with an official stance.”

James was nodding. “That makes sense,” he said.

“Is that James?” Kim asked.

James leaned closer to Sirius and peered over his shoulder into the camera. “Hi, Kim,” he said. “I think that plan sounds great.”

“Well, I don’t!” said Sirius. 

James looked at him in surprise. “You don’t?”

“No!” he exclaimed. “Why shouldn’t I have an official stance? My parents are in the wrong, Snape is in the wrong.”

James shrugged. “No one will care about what Snape said. It just reads like a musician jealous of another, more successful musician. People said shit like that about me when I was starting out, too — oh, it’s just because his parents are rich; or, oh, it’s just because he’s brown, the industry is only promoting him for the sake of ‘diversity’. It’s ridiculous. But it doesn’t make you or Reg look bad, it just reflects badly on Snape.” 

“It’s not what he says about Reg’s talent that bothers me! Or, it’s not what bothers me the most. He’s — James, you see what he’s trying to say, right? And what my parents were saying? You know what this whole thing was about, don’t you?”

James looked confused, but Lily gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Harry looked up at her in confusion, and tugged on a lock of her hair. 

Kim, who by the nature of her profession hated being out of the loop on any topic, cleared her throat meaningfully through the tinny speakers. Sirius looked back down at the screen.

“Well?” she asked. “If not the nepotism concern, what are we worried about here?”

“Er, well,” Sirius began. “I don’t know — if it’s my —”

He gave Lily a panicked look. She was whispering furiously to James, who looked stricken. When they both realised Sirius was watching them, Lily returned her attention to Harry and James smoothed out his features. He leaned around Sirius again to look at Kim.

“Kim, we’re gonna give you a call back in a minute, alright?” He took the phone from Sirius’ hand and hung up before Kim could reply. He turned to look at Sirius. 

“It’s the anxiety stuff again?”

“I mean, yeah, that’s what it sounds like,” said Sirius. 

“I thought he’d been getting help?” James prompted.

Lily laughed humourlessly. “Just because he got help doesn’t mean the anxiety disorder went away, James. It’s a lifelong thing.”

“And besides,” Sirius added. “It was Andromeda who’d hooked him up. He was seeing a friend of hers under-the-table, so that our parents wouldn’t cotton on. You know how they are about this crap. They think it’s a weakness. They think it’s shameful. They’d never let him take medication, much less see a shrink. And since Andi moved to the States with Ted, maybe that whole arrangement’s fallen apart.”

“But surely,” said James, “he’s an adult now? Why should it matter what your parents think?”

“Ah, but my father still takes care of all of his finances,” said Sirius. “He’d notice if he was paying a therapist. And you know how Reg is, the bloody prince of a son. He’s always been terrified of disappointing them. Of being like me. Ha.”

“Oh,” said James, hollowly. 

“Yeah,” said Sirius. “Oh.”

“But Sirius,” Lily said, “you can’t release a statement that says all of that. That’s not fair to Regulus, either.”

“I know that!” Sirius replied heatedly. “Don’t you think I know that? But I also can’t just pretend nothing’s happening.”

“You don’t have to pretend nothing’s happening!” said Lily. “You just have to be discrete about the way you take care of things. You can always reach out to Regulus. You don’t need to make a public statement to show you support him.”

James was nodding enthusiastically. “Exactly!” he said. “Release the thing Kim wanted to release, then it’s off your plate. And then you’re free to take care of Reg.”

“It’s not enough!” Sirius groaned. “I’m related to those people, and I don’t even have the balls to call them out on their shite in public.”

“Sirius,” Lily intoned, quietly, plaintively. “Not everything can be a big statement. Not all progress gets to be made all at once. Right now, we just have to take the little steps we can, okay? That’s all we can do.”

“Fine. It’s not as if Regulus wants anything to do with me anymore, anyways.” Sirius spat out. “You lot can call Kim back then. I’m going outside.”

He stormed into the back patio and lay prostrate on the terracotta tiles. The hard surface beneath his back felt good. 

He only had a few moments of peace before he heard the french doors creaking open. Raising his head, he saw it was Lily. He gave her a warning look. She raised her hands in surrender.

“James is calling Kim. I thought I’d come chat with you for a moment.”

Sirius blew out an enormous breath, hoping it would communicate to Lily just how little interest he had in  _ ‘chatting’ _ just then. Lily, displaying an unusual lack of sense, continued her approach. 

“Sirius,” she began. “You know the thing about Snape?”

Sirius snarled. Did she honestly believe this was the time to rehash  _ that  _ argument.

Undeterred, Lily continued. “You were right, that I stuck up for him too much. I know I did. It was stupid of me, and it was selfish. But I wasn’t — Sirius, I wasn’t doing it because I believed he was in the right. Of course I didn’t. It’s just, I needed to believe that there was still something there to save. Because Petunia stopped talking to me from the time I started school, basically. And it hurt so badly, to lose her, and to think that someone who meant so much to me was no longer part of my life. And so when it came to Severus, I just hung on too hard and for too long. Because I didn’t think I was ready to go through that kind of loss again.” She closed her eyes and squeezed them tight, as if warding off a headache, then continued. “Even though it seems clear to me now that I had already lost him. And what I should have done” — she took a deep breath — “is to keep trying with Petunia. I shouldn’t have given up on her. Because she’s who I was hurting over, really.” She looked at him nervously. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say to you?”

“Not in the slightest,” said Sirius, who was not in the mood to empathise with anyone, and least of all over the mistake of defending Snivellus. 

“What I’m trying to say,” Lily said forcefully, “is don’t fuck up the way I fucked up. You still have a chance to fix things with Reg. So don’t lose him, and don’t spend the next ten years with a wound that hurts not only you, but also those you love. Alright?”

Sirius didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. There were too many feelings rising up inside, too many arguments and counter-arguments, too much rage and hurt. He just rolled over onto his side so he wouldn’t have to look at Lily anymore. He heard her stand up, and then saw her shadow descending over him. Her long hair tickled his face as she leaned down to press a kiss against his forehead.

“I’ll let you be now,” she said. “We’re inside if you want any company.”

The sound of the door opening and shutting came once more, and then Sirius was alone. He rolled onto his belly, his nose smushed uncomfortably into the rough ground, and he let the dry red clay drink his tears.

~

**Remus**

Sunday was almost over, and Remus hadn’t heard back from Sirius yet. But that was alright. 

He had only realised after sending his message that extending another invitation, the day after seeing someone, and at eight-thirty in the morning on a Sunday, no less, maybe came across as a little overeager. It was just — he was having a damn hard time sticking to his guns. He had committed to a friendship with Sirius, and nothing more, until they knew one another better and Sirius was ready to come out on his own terms. 

But then, they had spent all week in one another's pockets on set. And Remus could not deny how drawn he felt to the man. What he had at first feared was only a matter of good looks, or some misguided attachment formed due to Sirius’ celebrity, was now undeniably genuine affection and raw attraction. Every time someone made a joke, Remus looked immediately at Sirius to see his reaction. And every time, he found that Sirius’ eyes had already found him in the crowd. He noticed himself scraping the very bottom of his observational barrel, trying to come up with witty little quips to whisper into Sirius’ ear every time they broke between takes. He needed the excuse to get closer, and it was the only method he could come up with that permitted him to simultaneously preserve a veneer of friendship, while also getting close enough to Sirius to smell him.

Oh god, he flushed just remembering it.  _ Smell him, Lupin? Really? _

Then yesterday in town, Sirius had been so vulnerable, and so tentative. Remus had watched Sirius with fresh eyes as he moved through the world, so clearly frightened that he had become more commodity than human. The distance Remus imagined separating their two worlds shrank by miles.

All this to say, Remus had fallen in a trap of his own creation. He was now sitting morosely in the living room, checking his mobile every five seconds for a message from a man he had himself turned away only the week before. He hadn’t been this pathetically enamoured of someone — well, ever. He had literally never behaved this way before.  _ For fuck’s sake. _

Well, that was decided then. He was going to pick himself up and go into the kitchen and ask Marlena if she wanted help cooking dinner. Because he was an adult, dammit, and because he knew how to be sensible about these things. 

Then his mobile vibrated on the coffee table in front of him, and he jumped about a mile in his eagerness to discover what secrets it held in store. 

It was from Sirius. 

_ hi, sorry i’ve been so slow. i realise it’s a bit late to go sightseeing now, but maybe we could grab a bite? i need a break from the house _

Remus forced himself to take ten deep breaths before responding.

_ Sure. I hope everything is alright? And where did you want to meet? _

Sirius replied instantaneously.

_ Oh, I’m fine, just thought I’d give Mrs. and Mr. Lily Evans a night to themselves. Where do you want to go? _

Remus could spot avoidance, especially when it was shoved directly under his nose. So, he tabled the question of ‘ _ what’s wrong with Sirius? _ ’, and proceeded to organise the meet up.

~

Forty minutes later, when Remus arrived at the only “pub” in town (fucking hell, sue him, but everything else aside, he was still a Welsh boy at heart and sometimes all he wanted was meat and potatoes) Sirius was already leant against the wall, sunglasses in place despite the late hour and the dusky skies. 

“Hi,” Remus said quietly, when he was still several metres away. Sirius appeared deep in thought, and he was loath to catch him unawares.

Sirius startled and flipped up his sunglasses to reveal silvery eyes. “Hi,” he said. “Thanks for meeting me on such short notice.”

“Not a problem,” said Remus. “I’m starved. Shall we go in?”

Leading the way, Remus pushed open the door and eagerly greeted the scent of fried meat — and not much else — that filled the air. After carefully scanning the joint, he chose a booth in the far corner where, if Sirius sat on the side nearer to the door, it was very unlikely he’d be spotted by anyone. He crossed the restaurant and took the seat that was more visible. Sirius, just on his heels, gratefully claimed the seat across from him.

Upon sitting, Sirius immediately put the menu up in front of his face.

“Wow, this all looks fantastic,” he said, long before he might have been able to garner any real information from the list.

“It does, doesn’t it,” Remus replied, stowing away his teasing for later. This was clearly not the time. “i’ve been craving some pub food for ages.”

“Honestly!” Sirius replied, his voice all forced cheeriness. Against all of Remus’ hopes, he didn’t add anything more enlightening. Resigning himself to the idea that he would be the one generating conversation for the next little bit, at least, Remus settled in to the task. 

“I always feel so unbearably British,” he said, “when I find myself missing food like this. But, well, there you have it.”

Sirius laughed, his first genuine expression of the evening. “I know just what you mean,” he said. “And then I think about how pleased my parents would probably be to hear it, and I feel ill.” His smile abruptly disappeared, and he directed all of his attention towards his hands where they were tracing the shellacked grain of the cheap wooden table.

“Oh?” said Remus, recalling Sirius’ general discomfort around the question of family and feeling that he was maybe pushing his luck. “Why’s that?”

Sirius shrugged heavily. “I s’pose because they’re narrow minded arseholes who feel threatened by cultures and experiences that aren’t their own. Or something like that.”

“Ah,” Remus replied. “I know the type.”

“Not to mention,” Sirius continued heatedly, “their utter inability to tolerate differences of any sort. Illness? Forget about it! Sexuality? Not today!”

“Right,” said Remus, suddenly wishing he had never asked. He wanted to know what Sirius was up against. Of course he did. But, all the same, he was only just coming out of a fairly rough spell himself. And, well, the reminder that Sirius was still very much under the thumb of internalised homophobia wasn’t exactly dong wonders for him. 

_ That’s what you get, _ he thought, _ for hoping. _

Sirius was clearly still on a roll of fury. “And money — oh, don’t get me started on money. You’re poor? You must be lazy! You need help? You must be a leech! I swear to fucking god —” he picked his napkin up in his hand, and crumpled it between his fingers — “I could just — oh, I wish I could just —”

Remus’ gaze zeroed in on the crumpled napkin between Sirius’ fingers.  _ He doesn’t mean it _ , he reminded himself.  _ It’s a figure of speech. He’s not a violent person _ .  _ You know he’s not. _

Nonetheless, the image of Sirius taking that fist and throwing it directly into his face, and not stopping, never stopping — it was the only thing Remus could see. He blinked hard, but the images stayed put behind his eyes. He could hear that Sirius was still talking, but the words no longer held any meaning for him. All he could see were those clenched fists, the tendons white beneath the tanned skin. 

He noticed, distantly, that it was becoming harder to breath.  _ That’s not great _ , he thought to himself.  _ Oh, fuck, that’s really not great. _ As it occurred to him how unfortunate the timing was, his breathing grew more harried.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck _ . 

Then, suddenly, there was a body wedged in beside his own in the booth. 

“Breath with me, Remus,” someone was saying. “C’mon. Let’s breath.”

A loud, exaggerated inhale sounded in his ear. Its exhale followed.

He glanced sideways, his vision slightly blurry. Dark hair, tanned skin. That smell. Sirius. Right. Sirius. Sirius was here. That’s why this sucked so bad. Most helpfully, his breathing kicked up a notch. He was fully hyperventilating now. 

Then, there were arms squeezing around him. Hard, hard, so hard it was impossible not to remember that he was alive, and that he was alright, and that there was a dividing line between the stories in his mind and the realities outside of it.

Sirius’ breath was still rising and falling in his ear. He tried to focus on it.  _ In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. _

He could feel his pulse throbbing in his eyelids and his fingers. It was uncomfortable, but it was real and strong and he loved it. He focused on it, and imagined it slowing. Over time, it did. 

Sirius’ arms around him loosened. He turned his head to look into the man’s face, and the arms fell away entirely.

“Hi,” said Sirius.

“Hi,” said Remus.

“Should I move back over there?” asked Sirius, nodding to the other side of the table. “Or is it alright if I stay here?”

“You can stay here,” he said. 

“Cool,” said Sirius. 

Remus leant his head against the back of the booth. He closed his eyes. Beside him, he felt Sirius do the same. Together, they breathed.

At first, all there was was exhaustion. But then the guilt and the shame made themselves known, too.

“Fuck, I’m sorry about that,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t want you to have to deal with that.” He chanced a glance sideways at Sirius. The man looked concerned, certainly, and a little preoccupied, but nothing in his face told Remus he was angry. He felt himself unwind by a fraction.

Sirius looked back at Remus, surprise now colouring his features, as well. “Fuck, don’t apologise,” he said. “It happens. My brother used to have them all the time.”

Remus could only nod. He knew this new information should probably mean something to him, but he just didn’t have the space for it.

“Do you — do you want to go outside?” Sirius asked.

Remus nodded again.

Sirius stood up and let him exit the booth. A waiter ran up to them, apparently concerned they were waiting for service. 

“Generally, we order at the bar here,” he explained. “But I can take your orders for you at the table, if you prefer.”

Sirius brushed him off, cooly explaining that he and his friend had decided they’d prefer to eat elsewhere. The waiter graciously allowed them to pass — “We hope you’ll come again, Mr. Black!” he exclaimed after them.

Once they were outside, Sirius gave Remus several paces of distance. Then he stood, hands in his trouser pockets, facing Remus.

In their walk outside, Remus had returned to himself a bit. “I won’t bite, you know,” he said to Sirius. “You can stand a bit closer.”

Sirius smiled sheepishly and came to stand beside him.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked. “Do you want something sweet? I could go back inside and ask if they’ve got any pudding.”

Remus shook his head. “I’d kill for a ciggy, though,”

“That,” Sirius said regretfully, “I do not have.”

“Ah, I s’pose it’s for the best,” said Remus. “Horrid habit.”

“Hmm,” said Sirius,

“What?”

“Well,” said Sirius, “I know it’s not good for you, but well — it is quite sexy! All that sucking, and blowing...”

Remus burst into laughter. Once he had begun, he found he could not stop. What was more, he did not want to. The horrible, echoing emptiness that usually filled him after panic attacks was soon replaced by something warm, golden, and curious. The emotional whiplash of it all left him almost dizzy.

Sirius laughed a bit, too, but mostly he just stood back and watched. There was something on his face that Remus was very near to naming ‘awe’.

“You dirty, dirty, boy,” he gasped out, when he finally had enough breath to spare.

Sirius shrugged. “I speak only the truth,” he said.

Remus, nearly through with his laughing fit, rolled his eyes.

“Fuck,” he said, when the final, trailing giggles had subsided, “but I am still hungry.”

“We could go back in?” Sirius asked.

“Fuck, no,” said Remus. “God, I don’t know if I ever want to see the inside of a pub again.”

Sirius winced. “That’s not great, for an Englishman.”

“Good thing I’m Welsh, then.” Sirius winced again at his mistake. “Na,” Remus continued. “I still need the pub. Just give it a week, eh?”

Sirius, evidently relieved, let out another brief laugh. Then his mind seemingly returned to the issue at hand.

“Er, well,” he said, “how’s about we stop in at the grocery? Make a picnic of it?”

Remus thought he had never heard a better idea, and he said as much to Sirius. Beaming with pleasure at his success, Sirius led the way. They’d gone a block before Remus decided enough was enough.

“Er, Sirius?” he tried. “The shop’s the other way.”

Sirius froze in his steps, then turned on his heel and started in the other direction as if that had been his plan all along.

Remus began to laugh again — but hell, this man was funny! Sirius threw him a look over his shoulder that had obviously hoped to be peeved. But his lips kept betraying him as they twitched into a smile. 

“I knew that,” he said.

“‘Course y’did,” said Remus.

“I do ALL my own grocery shopping,” said Sirius.

“‘Course y’do,” said Remus.

Then they both split into giggles again. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> I'll be heading out on a four-week backpacking trip at the end of this week, so this is our last official update until the end of July. But I promise to return promptly as soon as I'm back in the land of WiFi! I'll be queuing lots of little bits and bobs from different characters' POVs on my tumblr (@swottypotter), so head over there for little snacks to tide you over <3


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm BAAAAACK
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments while I was away <3 reading them has made me very, very happy.

**Remus**

It was the next morning at breakfast that Remus found out about Regulus. 

Dinah was reading the latest email from Ewan, which provided the rundown for the coming week. 

“Oh, that poor boy,” she said.

Remus didn’t hear her at first. He was lost in pleasant remembrances of the evening before.

Prosciutto and soft cheese on crusty bread, a jar of olives, a box of cherry tomatoes. Sirius had almost added a screw-top bottle of wine to the basket, but had glanced questioningly at Remus first. He had shaken his head minutely, and so Sirius had selected a case of San Pellegrino instead. At the beach, Sirius lay his black denim jacket out on the sand and it served as their picnic blanket. They sat together talking until all the food had disappeared and the stars had long since come out in full force. 

“There’s you,” Remus had said, when he spotted Canis Major. 

Sirius had looked at him in surprise. “How did you know that?”

Remus had shrugged. “I like stargazing. I did it all the time when I was a kid. Haven’t had much of a chance since I moved to the city.”

Sirius had scooted a bit closer to him after that, and both of them had pretended not to notice. Remus hadn’t been able to stop smiling for the rest of the night.

Actually, he was still smiling now. If he couldn’t get it under control soon, he’d make an utter fool of himself on set.

“That poor boy,” Dinah sighed again.

“Sorry, what?” Remus asked.

“Sirius. They’re talking about his family in the press again. Ewan’s email says the production staff should avoid mentioning it this week.”

“Sirius’ family?” Remus said dumbly.

“Yes,” said Dinah. “His father is a fairly famous financier? Apparently there was something about a screaming match with his younger brother over the weekend that  _ The Guardian _ caught wind of.”

Remus pulled his own mobile out and googled “the guardian sirius black”. The first result to come up was dated to yesterday. He opened it.

When he had read the article, he felt ill. 

_ So that was what Sirius was upset about last night. _

Remus’ immediate impulse was to text Sirius and ask him if he was alright.

Luckily, he was not a terribly impulsive person. 

His second impulse was that there was something fishy about the story the article told. The kid was so ill he had to run offstage, but then well enough to hang around in the lobby in a screaming match with his parents? And what exactly was so unacceptable about a stomach ache in the first place? 

And then there were the words the article quoted: “Spineless”, “odd”, “weak”, “a display” — Remus had heard these words before. He had  _ used _ these words before. And he hadn’t been complaining about his occasional bouts with indigestion when he’d done so. 

Another moment from the night before stirred in his memory, then.

_ ‘Don’t apologise. It happens. My brother used to have them all the time.’ _

Remus felt the rage then, the rage that had been radiating so frighteningly off of Sirius the night before. With the rage, however, came a renewed gratitude for Sirius. For the miraculous way in which he had not followed after his parents, and after so many others like them. For the calm acceptance with which he had ridden the waves of panic with Remus, without impatience or the demand for an explanation. 

Remus looked up from reading the article to find Dinah’s eyes trained on him. 

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said shortly. And then, after a moment’s thought: “I’m not sure.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Dinah nodded and went back to her emails. Remus rubbed his eyes with his hands and considered the day ahead. At least foolish smiling wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

~

They are filming a fight today. An argument. No battle, no blood shed, the wounds merely emotional. Remus hadn’t realised that it would take an even greater toll on him than the warfare of the previous weeks. 

It’s a scene between Achilles and his mother, the goddess Thetis. In it, Thetis tries to convince Achilles that his relationship with Patroclus will soil his hard-won honour. Achilles will not be swayed. 

“He will disgrace you!” said Alma, the actress portraying Thetis.

“There is no disgrace in it!” Sirius-who-was-Achilles shouted back. 

_ Thetis snorts. “Maybe not among children. You are a man now. Time to leave childish things behind.” _

_ “I love him,” is Achilles’ reply. “There is nothing childish in love.” _

_ “Your lot in life is not to love,” Thetis reminds him. “The gods promise you honour, glory, fame. They promise that you will be the best of all the Greeks, remembered for all generations to come as the greatest warrior ever to live. Now you ask for love, as well?” _

_ “I do not need to ask for it; I have it now.” _

_ “No man will respect you,” Thetis says coldly, “if you allow yourself to be thus conquered.” _

_ Her tone leaves little doubt as to what she is referring to. Achilles reddens.  _

_ “It is none of their concern,” he bites back. “Nor yours.” _

_ “My son,” Thetis says, her voice grave. “In embarking on this war, you have made a trade. Your life will be short, and it will be violent, and in exchange, every man in the world shall know your name. Do not make this sacrifice in vain. Do not relinquish the possibility of homecoming, only to make a laughing stock of yourself. Do not allow your honour to be thus darkened.” _

_ Achilles is no longer red, but pallid. His tan skin, usually aglow with sun and life and that extra glimmer that is his mother’s influence, is grey and bloodless. He inhales deeply. His jaw leaps with tension.  _

_ “If my honour is darkened, then it is darkened. But the Greeks are fools if they let my glory rise or fall on this.” _

_ Thetis swells, ready to contradict her son once again. Achilles interrupts her. _

_ “I give them my life, mother. I will not give them this. I will not give them Patroclus.” His voice, steely throughout their conversation, softens on this final word. He caresses the consonants, sighs the vowels.  _

_ Thetis says nothing more. Achilles looks at his mother for another moment, then turns and shows her his back as he walks away, back towards his tent and his bed roll and the sleeping form of his lover. _

“CUT!” cried Lily.

Sirius stopped his walk away, but he didn’t immediately return to where the crew was gathered around the camera. Remus watched from behind as his shoulders rose and fell with several deep breaths. He was on the verge of running over to him, onlookers be damned, when Sirius finally turned around and made his way back in front of Lily and Alma. 

“How was that?” he asked stiffly.

“Good,” said Lily. “We’re getting there. I’m wondering, though…” she trailed off.

“Wondering what?” Sirius prodded.

“What were — what is Achilles really thinking about, in this scene?”

“What do you mean? He’s thinking about Patroclus.”

“No, of course —” Lily hesitated and sucked in her lips as she searched for the right words. “I mean, when you say to your mother ‘If my honour is darkened, then it is darkened’, what are you actually feeling? Does the idea scare you?”

“Yes,” was Sirius’ immediate reply. 

“Hmm,” said Lily. She turned to Alma.

“Do you feel his fear?”

Alma nodded.

“Hmm,” Lily said again. She considered everything quietly for another moment. Finally, she looked at Sirius again.

“This time,” she said, “I want you to try and not feel scared.”

Sirius was taken aback. “Not scared? But reputation means more to Achilles than anything. If he’s not scared of this, then what is he scared of?”

Lily was slow to reply yet again. “What I mean, Sirius, is that this is early days yet, in the timeline of our war. Achilles is not someone who is used to being questioned, or doubted. He is a golden boy, and always has been. Right?”

“Right,” Sirius agreed.

“So then, well, I think he believes more strongly in himself than he does in anything else. More strongly than he believes in the gods. And I think that he thinks — naively, and contrary to the prophecies he lives with and the culture he is born to — that he is still in control of his own fate. I think, Sirius, that he does not yet believe or understand that he is capable of losing.”

Sirius nodded slowly as this sunk in. “I think I understand,” he said. 

“Okay,” said Lily. She was watching Sirius carefully, as if frightened he might snap in two. Remus might have found this odd, except that he was looking at Sirius in precisely the same way.

“Let’s reset, then. Sound?”

“Speeding.”

“Camera?”

“Rolling.” 

“Slate?”

“Scene twenty-four, shot two, take four!”

“ACTION!”

They did the scene again. Thetis was colder, Achilles brasher. Watching them, Remus could not help but feel that this was the most distant Achilles had ever been from the actor who portrayed him. 

It was odd. Remus knew that Sirius was not without burden. He was intimately, painfully aware of the fact that Sirius was closeted. He knew his family life was challenging. He had seen first hand the cautiousness with which Sirius approached his time in the public eye. Sirius did not give off the illusion of effortlessness Remus had first suspected he might.

But still, Sirius had always seemed unerringly confident to Remus. Awkward sometimes, and angry sometimes, and even ridiculous sometimes, but always very sure of his own worth and his own place. It was something Remus admired in him. It was something he wished for in himself.

Seeing him as Achilles now, Remus realised there was another thing in Sirius that he had failed to make note of: Sirius was always, always scared. He walked and breathed and spoke and laughed in fear. And it was only in watching him purposefully embody its absence that Remus could notice that it had ever been a presence. 

If Achilles believed that he was immune to loss, Sirius obviously knew that it was inescapable. 

His mind flashed again to the article he had read that morning, and to the diatribe about Sirius’ parents that he had heard last night. A new wave of anger washed through him, and the anger was both clarifying and galvanising. 

They broke for lunch soon after. Remus took his accustomed seat beside Sirius and leaned in close to his ear.

“I want to talk to you,” he whispered. “In private.”

Sirius looked at him with wide eyes. He nodded.

Then Elijah sat down.

“Hey guys!” he piped. “Good weekend?”

Remus opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Lily dropped into the seat beside Elijah.

“Well done this morning, Sirius! I feel we really nailed that scene by the end, you know?”

Beside Remus, Sirius shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah.”

If Lily noticed Sirius’ listlessness, she made no comment. “I’m particularly excited for the scene we’ll shoot this afternoon, though. I think it will contrast with this one in an interesting way. I scheduled them together on purpose.”

“Oh?” Sirius actually seemed interested now.

Lily nodded. “We don’t have to talk about it now, though, if you’re tired. You deserve a chance to recharge before we start again.”

“No, tell me,” Sirius said, never one to back down.

Lily smiled brilliantly for a second, and Remus realised this had been her plan all along. 

“Well, remember how I said this morning that the scene with Thetis was sort of near the beginning of the war?”

“Sure.”

“Well,” Lily continued, “this afternoon is pretty close to the end. And I think it will create a cool contrast, because Achilles is definitely in a different place, emotionally speaking.”

Sirius furrowed his brow, clearly thinking about the script he had read and trying to place Lily’s commentary within it. “You mean, he’s not naive anymore?”

Lily tilted her head to the side consideringly. “I mean, I think he’s finally realised that losing is possible.”

Sirius let out a long, low breath. Remus, watching him from the side, thought he saw him subtly square up his shoulders.

“But the Greeks win,” Elijah said in confusion.

“The Greeks win,” Sirius agreed. “Achilles doesn’t.”

~

The scene that afternoon was between Sirius and Elijah. Achilles and Patroclus. The final scene their two characters would share as living flesh. 

_ “He dishonours me!” Achilles roars.  _

_ Patroclus looks at him like he is a stranger. This undone man, so different from the boy he loved. Loves.  _

_ “Agamemnon will pay for this! All Greece will pay for this!”  _

_ He is desperate, cracking, wild with rage. Patroclus watches him, and thinks to himself, ‘Did you really not know this was coming?’ _

_ “I will fight for them no longer! Let us see how the mighty Greek army fares without Achilles to lead them!”  _

_ Patroclus is silent still. He knows, he knows, that this is more painful to him than death. That to Achilles, this is death. A death more complete and permanent than the simple severing of immortal soul from mortal body. He had sacrificed his life to the promise of glory, before he even knew what it meant to be alive. Agamemnon now threatens that sacrifice.  _

_ ‘But it is you, you Achilles, who strikes the final blow against yourself.’ Patroclus wants to scream. ‘Agamemnon may have set the trap, but you are the one throwing yourself into it.’ _

_ “Say something, gods damn you!” Achilles screams. _

_ Patroclus does not flinch. “The Greeks die without you, Achilles. Your people die by your pride. This is not the way to be remembered.” _

_ Achilles swells, incandescent. “I am not worth remembering if I am without honour. Life, death, it makes no difference if I must continue without my honour.” _

_ He sees the defeated slump of Patroclus’ shoulders. Patroclus who has never made a decision in the interest of his own reputation. Patroclus who is so ruled by his heart that he sees not the greater forest, but only each, individual, weeping, suffering, broken tree. Patroclus, whom he would do anything for. Almost anything for.  _

_ But not this. He cannot do this, not even for Patroclus. When he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper. _

_ “Patroclus, I cannot. I cannot.”  _

_ Patroclus meets his eyes, and it is a knife through his chest. The disappointment there, and the pity. Pity! When did Achilles become a man worthy of pity? It is that which breaks him.  _

_ “It is not fair,” he moans, like the petulant child he never had a chance to be. _

_ Patroclus steps forwards then, and pulls him into his arms. He is taller than Patroclus, and stronger, but in that moment, he is as small and weak as a babe. He melts into his lover’s embrace, and buries his nose into the warm, musky curve of his neck.  _

_ “I will go in your place,” Patroclus says. “Give me your armour, Achilles. I will lead the Myrmidons.” _

_ Achilles startles backwards. “No!” _

_ “Yes,” Patroclus says soothingly. “Yes, you must let me. Then your honour is spared, and the Greeks also. They will not survive without our forces.” _

_ “It is too dangerous.” _

_ “It is the only way.” _

_ Achilles sees that Patroclus is right, and he agrees. Together, they dress Patroclus in Achilles’ glorious, god-forged armour. Achilles lifts Patroclus helmet and presses a searing kiss to his lips. It is the reverse of the gesture Patroclus has made so many times in the past ten years. A kiss that begs ‘return to me’, a kiss that says ‘you matter more than life’.  _

_ Patroclus leaves the tent. Achilles lies down on their bed roll and covers his face in his hands. _

“Cut.” Lily says. There is silence on the set. Remus is watching Sirius, who has not yet removed his hands from his face. It is only when he hears a long, rattling breath that he realises it is because Sirius is crying.

Instinctively, he steps forward and kneels beside Sirius. “It’s alright,” he says uselessly.

Lily is kneeling beside him then. She strokes her fingers through Sirius’ hair, and Remus fights the tsunami of jealousy that threatens to overwhelm him.

“Well done, Padfoot,” she says quietly. “We’re not going to need another take.”

Elijah, who has reentered the tent, begins to clap quietly. Soon, every member of the crew is clapping alongside him. Sirius removes his hands from his face and pushes himself into a sitting position. He smiles bashfully as tears continue to stream down his cheeks. 

“Fuck, sorry,” he says. He glances at Remus, and their eyes lock for the space of a breath. He looks away again just as quickly. 

“Ha, yes, we’re all very frustrated with you. We were all hoping this film would be rubbish, but you keep doing a fantastic job. What gives, Sirius?” Lily wraps her arm around Sirius as she speaks, and he tucks his head under her chin.

Sirius chuckles, a wet, broken sound more like a cough than his usual bark. 

“I say that’s a wrap, wouldn’t you, Alice?” Lily calls over her shoulder.

“I would indeed,” Alice replies briskly. 

“Okay then, loves. We are done for the day. See you all bright and early tomorrow.”

Lily helps Sirius up. Sirius still won’t look back at Remus. Remus trails behind them as Lily leads Sirius from the dark of the tent into the brilliant sunshine of the mid afternoon. They walk towards his trailer, arm-in-arm. 

Remus stands still in the middle of the hubbub that is the crew breaking down the gear for the day. He has no way to help, he knows he is probably just in the way. But he doesn’t know where to go.  _ ‘I need to talk to Sirius,’ _ he thinks to himself.  _ ‘I need to talk to Sirius.’ _

But Sirius has disappeared into his trailer now, and he was obviously not going to look Remus in the eye again, anyway. In a haze, Remus drifts towards the crew shuttles. He had planned to catch a ride with Lily and Sirius again, but that now seems completely impossible. 

The journey home feels both endless and instantaneous, his thoughts both nowhere and everywhere. He lies down on his bed when he arrives and throws his arms across his face, an unintentional mimicry of Achilles earlier. 

He wishes he could cry, but he can’t. Hasn’t for years.

  
  


**Sirius**

_ ‘Don’t spend the next ten years with a wound that hurts not only you, but also those you love.’ _

That’s what Lily had said. He hadn’t fully understood what she meant. Not at the time.

Now he did. Suddenly, the entire path was laid out in front of him. The places he’d been and the places he’d keep going if he didn’t find some way to change. 

_ ‘You have more power than you think,’ _ Remus had said. Sirius had thought them kind words, bracing words, inspiring words. He had thought Remus was talking about his influence as a celebrity, his responsibility to make the world a better place. He had thought Remus meant if he didn’t like the broken system, he had a chance to fix it. 

But now he thought Remus might have meant something else. 

Sirius had left home at the age of sixteen. He moved in with the Potters, he stopped talking to his brother, he made a clean break for himself. At least, he thought he had. Lily always told him he had done the right thing:  _ ‘You needed to protect yourself’ _ , she’d say. ‘ _ You were unhappy there.’ _

And she was right, he had been unhappy there. And he did need to protect himself. The problem was, he hadn’t ever really left. He hadn’t lived with his parents in over ten years, but somehow he was still trapped beneath their thumbs. 

_ ‘You have more power than you think.’ _

Achilles clung to the illusion of honour and lost his love, and his life, and any chance at happiness. Achilles thought that that was power. Achilles cared more for the opinions of strangers and enemies than he did for his own sense of right and wrong, love and hate, happiness and misery.

Achilles thought he was not subject to the gods’ plans. He was wrong. 

He had no power, because his power lay in the perceptions of others. When perception changed, so did Achilles' worth. That is no power. That is phantom. 

_ ‘You have more power than you think.’ _

You are not Achilles, is what Remus had meant. You can have power that is not mere phantom. All you need to do is seize it. 

Could he seize it?

_ Yes! _

Could he? 

_ No. _

Could he?

_ I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. _

The sound of Lily’s mobile ringing barged in on his thoughts. They were cuddled together on the sofa in his trailer. She was still carding her fingers through his hair. 

She checked the display. “It’s James,” she said. She picked up.

“Hey, love,” she said.

“Hey, I’m in the parking lot,” came James’ tinny voice.

Lily turned to look at Sirius, her eyebrows raised in question. He shrugged.

“We’ll be right out,” Lily said. “See you soon.” She ended the call and squeezed Sirius ‘round the shoulder once again.

“Let’s go home, okay?”

“Okay,” Sirius said. He leaned against Lily as they left the trailer. He felt like a child. He felt like the raw, new skin beneath a blister. He felt completely unequipped for the world. 

At the car, James looked at him and Lily and seemed confused. “I thought we were giving Remus a ride, too?” he said.

_ Remus, Remus, Remus. I need to talk to Remus.  _

“We wrapped early,” Lily said. “He took off on his own.”

“Oh, gotcha,” James said. “Pads, heard anything from Reg today?”

Sirius couldn’t speak. 

_ Regulus, Regulus, Regulus. I need to talk to Regulus. _

Lily nudged James meaningfully, and that was the end of that.

The rest of the trip home was quiet. Sirius sat in the backseat and let Harry play with his fingers. James and Lily murmured quietly to one another in the front. When they reached the villa, Sirius walked directly up the stairs to his bedroom. He pulled out his mobile and selected Regulus’ contact from his favourites list. They hadn’t spoken in years, but Sirius could never bring himself to take his brother off the favourites list.

The phone rang, and rang, and rang. And then it went to voicemail. There wasn’t even a personalised message; just a robotic woman telling him he’d reached his brother’s number. 

He called again — Regulus  _ had  _ to pick up. He had to. Sirius wanted to talk to him, Sirius wanted an end to the horrible guilt inside of him, Sirius wanted to make a change in his life. Sirius wanted to feel like he had power. 

Regulus still didn’t answer. 

He called Andromeda instead. He was terrified, at first, that she would ignore him, too. But he needn’t have feared. She picked up on the sixth ring.

“Sirius?” she said when she answered.

“Andi,” he said, his voice coated in relief. 

“Have you spoken to Reg?” They spoke at the same time. And then, in unison again: “Fuck.”

“He won’t answer my calls,” Sirius explained.

“Nor mine.”

“Have you heard from my parents at all?” Sirius asked, knowing how unlikely it was.

Andromeda just laughed bitterly. “Of course not. I’m as excommunicated as you are.”

“Andi, what if he’s not okay?” Sirius said desperately. “What are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, Sirius. I don’t know if there’s anything we  _ can _ do.”

“I thought he was meeting with your friend!” he shot back at her accusingly. “What, you just decided to let him fend for himself after you left?”

“I thought he was too, Siri. I promise. She only called me yesterday to let me know he’d stopped showing up. She was worried about him, but she said she hadn’t want to violate doctor-patient.”

“Fuck. Fuck. He can’t be alone with them; he can’t. I’ve been so awful, and such a bad brother, and I just — fuck! I thought — I thought —”  _ I thought I was better than him. I thought the reason I got away was because I was smart and brave enough to do it.  _

“We’ll both keep trying to reach him, alright? I’ll let Cissy know you called; she’s been worried about him too, and she might be able to reach him more easily than either of us.”

“Narcissa?” Sirius’ cousin was not someone he had ever looked at as an ally. She was an exemplary daughter of the House of Black. 

“Yeah, she’s been looking out for him while we’ve been gone. I’ll ask her if she’s had any more luck getting in touch.”

“Okay,” said Sirius, still reeling with realisation that his platinum-haired cousin was not quite as vapid as she’d always seemed. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll call him again tonight. Maybe he just didn’t want to pick up in front of them, or something.”

“Right!” Andromeda agreed, far too enthusiastically. Even Sirius could admit that it was a foolishly hopeful prediction. 

Sirius took one deep breath. “Alright, Andi,” he said. “I’m gonna go. You’ll call if you hear anything?”

“Of course,” she replied. 

He ended the call, and lay back on his bed. His brain was swimming with anger and frustration and fear and panic, and every other emotion that made him want to fight and flee simultaneously. 

He was sure of only one thing: he really didn’t want to be alone any longer. He always fancied himself to be one of those people who retreated when they were unhappy; who kept up a brave face and stoically suffered their misery in the privacy of their own room. He was just, simply, not that at all. 

He wanted affection, and attention, and he wanted them now. 

Downstairs in the living room, Lily and James were sitting huddled together on the couch, Harry on James’ lap. Sirius stomped across the room and stood in front of them. Then he threw himself face down into the narrow space between them. They took the hint and spread apart, Lily on one end of the couch and James on the other.

Sirius lay face down in Lily’s lap, his nose digging into the meat of her thigh. He put his feet up in James’ lap, beside his godson. Distantly, he knew he was being a bit ridiculous. More present was the feral dog who just wanted more, more, more. 

For a while, the only sounds in the room were James and Harry babbling back and forth to one another. Sirius’ thoughts were still spinning around restlessly. Sometimes, they landed on Regulus. Other times, Remus. Other times, the specter of Achilles that was tucked in a recess of his mind. 

He always talked about how trapped Regulus was. Still living with their parents, still beholden to them. Still paralysed in his disorder because he could not free himself enough to get the help he needed. He complained about Regulus, and his powerlessness. The number of times he’d bemoaned to James that if Regulus could only do as he, Sirius, had done, and leave their parents behind, he’d be a happy person. 

But Sirius was a hypocrite. Sirius had as little autonomy as Regulus did. He was still hiding himself, from his parents and from the wider world. He had left them in name, but not in spirit. He was just a bloody hypocrite.

He thought about Remus; careful, quiet, kind. Battling demons that he couldn’t begin to guess at. He thought about Remus’ easy friendship with Elijah, his rapport with Genevieve, his understanding of Lily, and the thousands of other connections he seemed to have forged so easily with the members of the cast and crew. 

Remus was guarded, and he was withdrawn. He didn’t have the charisma or the charm that Sirius had always been praised for. People thought that Sirius was a happy, shiny person. No one would ever accuse Remus of the same. But Remus had peace, and companionship, and love. He had love. So much love. So who, in the end, was happy?

Certainly not Achilles. And certainly not Sirius. The realisation knocked the wind out of his lungs.

“I’m not happy,” he said out loud, wonderingly. Lily’s hand, still twining through his hair, stilled momentarily. Then it resumed its stroking.

“I know, Padfoot,” she said.

James reached out and squeezed the back of his ankle. It was a strange gesture, but it filled Sirius with warmth all the same. It made him feel brave.

“I think I need to tell you guys something,” he said.

“Okay,” said Lily. 

He turned his head so that it was buried more completely in her lap. He couldn't say it. It was too scary. He’d never even said it aloud to himself. He felt his heart rising up in his throat, and his pulse speeding up. 

Lily and James didn’t say anything. They just waited for him to decide what he wanted to do. Lily’s hand was still moving through his hair, and James was still holding him bracingly by the ankle.

It wasn’t them he was scared of. He knew better than that. He didn’t know what he was scared of. He was just  _ scared _ . He was always scared. He was so tired of feeling scared. 

“I’m gay.”

He whispered the words into Lily’s lap. Her hand didn’t stop moving, nor did James’ leave its place on his leg. 

“We love you so much, Pads,” said James.

“So much,” echoed Lily. 

Sirius began to sob into her lap. He didn’t know why he was crying. It felt like relief, but also like grief. Soon, he needed more air than he could find with his nose nestled in Lily’s thigh. And he was snotting up her dungarees. He turned over onto his back. The sight of Lily’s proud, smiling face was waiting for him.

He sat up and saw James, his face the same as Lily’s. Harry was watching him in concern. 

“Pa’foo?” he said. 

“Hiya, Haz,” Sirius said. Harry reached out his chubby arms, and James, grinning, passed his son over to Sirius. Sirius cuddled him in close, and Harry reached out to grab a fistful of his hair. He yanked hard. Sirius yelped, and held Harry away from his chest.

“Hey!” he scolded.

“Pa’foo!” Harry scolded back.

Sirius began laughing: his usual laugh. The one that sounded like a big, playful dog. On either side of him, Lily and James began to laugh too.

When the laughing stopped, Sirius felt all scraped out inside. He was so exhausted, and so overwhelmed with emotion. Despite that, he felt calm. Calm for the first time in weeks. Or months. Or years.

He wasn’t done yet, though. 

“I think I need to go see Remus,” he said to Lily and James.

“I agree,” said Lily.

“What?” said James.

“Remus,” Sirius repeated. “I think I’m falling in love with Remus.” It was suddenly so obvious, so easy to say. What is true power, if not love? What was it that he had prevented himself from reaching out for all these years, if not love?

Lily beamed up at him. James took another moment, but then he began nodding his head. “So that’s why you were so weird when he came for dinner.”

“What?” he and Lily asked together.

“Oh! C’mon! You were so tense when we had dinner with him!”

“I didn’t even know I liked him back then!” Sirius contradicted.

James laughed. “Well that was a bit daft of you, wasn’t it?”

Sirius shook his head in disbelief. James was the only person he knew who could switch so quickly from oblivious to insightful. It was as if he spent eighty-three percent of his time in a completely different place than the rest of them, and just zoomed back to Earth from time to time to cement his position as Prince Among Men. 

Lily laughed and slid back across the couch to cuddle against her husband. 

“I know Remus will be happy to see you,” she said. “We’ll be here rooting for you.”

Sirius looked at his two best friends, sat on the couch with his godson held between them.  _ I have love _ , he thought to himself.  _ Even when I don’t deserve it, I have love. _ He gave them a watery smile, and then crossed to the door.

_ I came out _ , he marvelled.  _ And I did it for me _ . This was what Remus had been talking about. With a burst of joy that felt completely out of place in the rest of his day, he pulled open the door. 

There was already someone standing on the other side.

“Hi, big brother,” Regulus said. “Long time, no see.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehehehe... until next time xx


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter nine! finally! 
> 
> i loved writing regulus. i hope you love reading him.

**Sirius**

“Can you take me through that again?”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “I called Narcissa, who spoke to her friend Angela, who’s husband is Rick, who’s sister is Emilia, who works for the agency you lot rented the villa from. And since Angela owed Cissy a favour, she got Rick to get Emilia to find the details on where you were staying. And then I bought a plane ticket and now I’m here.”

“But why?” Sirius asked.

“Why did I buy a plane ticket? Because I didn’t fancy swimming here.”

Lily giggled, but covered her mouth when Sirius glared at her. She and James were still on the sofa together. Regulus, who had not yet been invited by his brother to sit down, was standing stiffly at the edge of the room, rucksack still in hand. Sirius faced him, arms crossed.

“Ha bloody ha. No, I meant, why didn’t you just fucking ask me for the address? I’ve been worried about you. Arse.”

Regulus was doing that infuriating thing he did where his expression didn’t change but Sirius could tell he was being mentally eviscerated.  _ How did the kid do it? _

After a few moments, Regulus seemed to decide that he had put Sirius under the broiler for long enough. He shrugged. 

“I suppose I wasn’t sure you’d want me to come.”

“Well that’s just — just —”  _ completely understandable _ , finished the mean little voice in Sirius’ head. He took a deep breath. “I’m really glad to see you.” 

Regulus almost smiled at him. “You too,” he said.

~

Later, when it was getting dark and Regulus had been settled into the third bedroom and James had plied everyone with Scotch pancakes and Lily had bestowed numerous floral-scented hugs and Harry had done his damnedest to drool in as many places as possible, Regulus and Sirius went out for a walk. 

Sirius hadn’t seen his baby brother in over a year. He hadn’t had a real conversation with him in something closer to two. It had been nearly ten years since they had actually been close. That was when he had left home for good, and shouted at Regulus to  _ ‘come with me, you coward’.  _

Fucking hell, but  _ why _ had he called him a coward? The shame of it pooled in his face and turned it red. 

Regulus watched him from the side and said, “Aren’t you going to ask me about it?”

It was no good pretending he didn’t know what  _ ‘it’ _ was. He was far too transparent and Regulus far too clever for that to work. Ever.

“Reg, what happened at that concert?”

Regulus shrugged. “You know what happened. I had one of my ‘spells’ and humiliated myself, didn’t I? We always knew it would happen.”

Sirius hated the hardness he heard in his brother’s voice. The careful apathy of it all. He stopped walking and swung around to stop Reg in his path. 

“But why did it happen? I thought it had gotten, y’know, better. I thought — I thought maybe  _ they  _ had gotten better.”

Regulus snorted. “No, they didn’t get better.” He tried to keep walking, but Sirius wouldn’t move out of his way. 

“Sirius, I’m fine, alright? It was just a bad week. We were rehearsing around the clock, I wasn’t sleeping enough, that’s all. I just need a few days off, and then I’ll go back. I’m fine.”

“No,” said Sirius.

“No?” Regulus asked, bemused. “No what? No, I’m not fine? I think I’m a better judge of that than you are. Seeing as, y’know, I’m me and you’re not, and all.”

“I mean, no, you are not going back in a few days.”

Regulus rolled his eyes again. “My job is in London. I can’t just bloody move to Malta on a whim.” His tone relayed everything Sirius might have wished to know about his brother’s opinion of his work. Namely, that the opinion had not changed in the least and that acting was still to be considered a bit of a soft option. He filed that away to fight about later.

“Reg, it’s almost the end of our shoot. I’ll be back in London in a week and a half. Stay here until then, and then move in with me when we get back to London, and we’ll just — we’ll find a way to keep you away from those people.”

“Those people are our  _ parents _ , Sirius.” And then, when Sirius opened his mouth, ready to argue, he amended himself. “They’re  _ my _ parents, alright? I know they’re terrible but they’re mine. And I don’t want to just be done with them. I still — I still love them.” He sounded ashamed.

Sirius wanted to argue. He wanted to argue so badly.  _ No, you don’t love them. No, parents don’t treat their children the way they treated us. No, you are never seeing them again. No, I’m older so I’m the boss so I make the rules and right now my rules are ‘keep Regulus happy and comfortable at any and all cost’.  _ He didn’t say any of it. He didn’t get a chance. Regulus was talking again. 

“Sirius, you think you can just swoop in and fix everything. You think that everything is easy to solve, because you just leave or you shout or you stop caring. I’m not like that, alright? You don’t get to decide how I deal with this.”

_ But why not?  _ Sirius wanted to scream. Instead he said, “Fine. But will you let me set you up with a therapist again, at least? When we’re back in London?”

Regulus cocked an eyebrow. “What about you? You been seeing a therapist?”

“I don’t need a therapist,” Sirius said, surprised. 

Regulus laughed. Then the flash went off. 

Sirius stiffened, and was suddenly, overwhelmingly reminded of the last time he had felt this way. On a beach not far from where they stood now, the feel of Remus in his arms, the taste of him on his tongue.

No. He had had enough.

He spun on his heel and glared into the dark roadside, where he knew a pap was lurking with their stupid camera and their stupid flash and their stupid, stupid belief that they could just bloody photograph Sirius’ baby brother whenever the hell they pleased. He was so angry he didn’t notice at first that Regulus’ breathing had changed. Or, rather, that it had stopped. 

“Reg?” he asked. “It’s alright.” He put his arm around Regulus’ shoulder. The flash went off again. 

“Fuck off!” he screamed into the darkness. Regulus pushed him away and sank down to kneel on the road. The flash went off again.  _ Dammit _ , he thought, a moment too late.  _ No raised voices. Right _ . 

He forced himself to quiet down. “Reg? You sit here for a sec, alright? I’m gonna go have a word with the photog. I’ll be right back.”

Squinting into the darkness of the night, he sought out the telltale glint of a camera lens that would reveal his quarry. The flash went off again and illuminated the photographer in the darkness. That worked too, he supposed. The presumptuous idiot.

“Hiya mate,” he said cooly. “Mind handing over your camera for a mo?”

The photographer turned and began running away. He was fast, but it just so happened that Sirius had been shooting an action film for the past two and a half months. He was in fantastic shape. He easily caught up with the sorry sod and grabbed him by the arm. 

“Hey!” the guy yelped. “Don’t hurt me!”

Sirius scoffed. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he spat. “But kindly delete those photos or I might have to sue you. And that would probably hurt worse. My lawyers are excellent.”

The idiot seemed to think they were still having a conversation, and replied, “I’m within my rights to photograph you. This is public property.”

“Hmm, you have a point there, mate. Alright, well, do you have any questions for me, then?”

The man froze, startled by Sirius’ sudden change in tone. Sirius took the opportunity to yank the camera off of its strap, navigate to the photo library, and delete the most recent shots. He saw a few of James on the beach with Harry from earlier in the day and took the liberty of deleting those as well. When he was done, he held the camera out to the man. The man tried to take it, but Sirius held onto it for another moment.

“Now, when I turn around, and go back over there, you’re not going to be daft twat and try that on again, are you?”

“No, sir,” the pap said sullenly. 

“Phenomenal.” He relinquished the camera and returned to his brother. Regulus’ breathing seemed to have recovered a fair bit, but he was still kneeling on the ground with his head low. 

Sirius leant down next to him and said, in a low voice, “He’s gone, Reg. And I got the photos, too.”

Regulus tilted his chin up then, and met Sirius’ eye. “Irony is just lost on you, isn’t it?”

Sirius reeled back. Regulus had that look again. That look that said,  _ ‘you might just be the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.’ _ That look that said,  _ ‘if you could see yourself the way I saw you, you’d never have another moment of peace.’  _

Regulus helped himself to his feet. Sirius waited for him to take the lead. He started walking back towards the house. Sirius followed. 

He let the silence simmer for two minutes — maybe one — before the churning wave inside of him took over and he could not wait a moment longer. He matched his stride to his brother’s. 

“Y’know, I really am glad that you’re here,” he said.

Regulus snorted. “Yes, I know how important it is for you to have the chance to play hero with me. Glad to give you the chance again.”

Sirius bit back the impulse to argue. It wasn’t important enough right now. 

Right now, there was only one thing he wanted to do — or, no, he didn’t want to. He just had to. Because if there was anything Sirius knew not to underestimate, it was momentum. Momentum in comedy, momentum in scene work, momentum in life.  _ Forwards, forwards, forwards  _ the voice inside him urged.

Sirius didn’t like to learn his lessons more than once. He needed to make things right with Regulus, and if that was going to happen, he had to make things right with himself, first.

“No, I mean, it’s really good timing that you’re here. There’s something I need to tell you.” 

He could feel his pulse quickening. Regulus was still close with the family. He would tell them. 

_ That doesn’t matter _ , the voice reminded him.  _ They have no power over you. If things go your way, everyone will know soon enough. _

He wasn’t ready for things to change. 

_ You are more than ready _ , the voice nudged.  _ Just because you’re scared doesn’t mean you’re not ready _ .

“What is it, Sirius?” Regulus asked, his voice clipped. He clearly still thought this was something about him. 

_ If you’re going to tell him to escape their influence, you had better go first. You’re the big brother, after all _ .

“I just — I wanted to say sorry, for calling you a coward. When I left home.” Well, that wasn’t what he had meant to say.

Regulus only stared at him. Then he shrugged. “You weren’t wrong,” he said bitterly. “I am a coward.”

Sirius stopped walking again. He wanted to reach out and grab Regulus by the wrist, but he knew a sudden movement like that was probably the wrong idea. He concentrated on putting everything he felt into his voice instead. “No, you’re not. I’m the coward. I’m a hypocrite.”

Regulus stopped and turned around to face him. “Sirius, drop the riddles. What is going on?”

He opened his mouth, and found a tidal wave waiting behind his lips.

“I’m gay, okay? I’m gay, and I never told you, and I never told anyone, because I was still so scared of our parents. Our parents! Who I haven’t seen in years! I’m the coward, and I’m a hypocrite, and I never tried hard enough to help you, and I’ll understand if you never forgive me.” 

Sirius only stopped because he had run out of breath. There was so much more to say, and this was probably the last chance he’d ever get to say it. To his horror, he felt tears spring up in his eyes. Despite this embarrassment, he forced himself to keep them fixed on Regulus’ face. It was frozen, immobile. 

“Reg?” He couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I’m trying to decide,” Regulus said, an inexplicable smile in his voice, “whether or not you want me to be surprised.”

Now it was Sirius’ turn to freeze.

“I know, you ninny,” Regulus went on. “I saw you with that kid Gideon once. You were behind the greenhouses at school. Not exactly original of you. Or subtle. But those never were your strong suits.”

“I — and you never told mum and dad?” Sirius managed to choke out. He knew the answer already, of course. He would know if his parents knew, that much he was sure of. But he had to ask.

Regulus scoffed. “Of course not.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Regulus said, rolling his eyes. “ _ Oh _ .” He turned halfway back around, seemingly ready to end the conversation and continue their walk. But he stopped himself halfway, and swung back to look at Sirius again. 

“You’re not a coward, by the way,” he said firmly. “Don’t ever let me hear you call yourself that again.” 

He turned around and began walking. Over his shoulder, he remarked, “I’m the only one who gets to call you names. Idiot.”

~

As Sirius finally slid into bed that night, he felt both completely full and completely empty. It was as if the number of things he had experienced that day had battled inside of him and then reached a stalemate. Everything and nothing floated together in his mental space, which was currently impersonating the static of a haywire television screen.

He closed his eyes tightly and hoped that sleep would come quickly. 

Sleep, disobliging friend that it was, dilly-dallied. 

Tired of waiting, he spoke into the dark quiescence of the room.

“It’ll be alright, won’t it?”

The room had no reply.

“I can always talk to Remus tomorrow,” he reassured the ceiling.

The ceiling stared balefully back at him.

  
  


**Remus**

The first thing Remus noticed when he arrived on set the next day was the whispering. There hadn’t been so many susurrant voices around since that week Sirius had been acting like — well, like an irredemable arsehole.

He tried to ignore it at first. But he was bad at that. So instead he listened covertly. He was quite good at that.

“Brother —” 

“Yes, that’s right, the one from the paper —”

“I heard they didn’t get along.”

“Well then why is he here?”

Well, then, it sounded almost as if ---

“Heya, Remus!”

He whipped around, spooked. 

He found James grinning at him, Harry cradled in his arms. 

“Oh, hi James,” he said. “Didn’t know you were here today.”

James’ brilliant smile dimmed a bit. “Well, y’know, wanted to be here for Sirius, and all.”

“Oh, right,” Remus said.

James seemed to sense his confusion. “Er, haven’t you seen Sirius yet today?”

“No,” Remus said, truthfully and with mounting apprehension.

“Right. Well, his brother is here, and, er — I suppose it’s best if you two talk first, hmm? I’m sure he’d prefer that.”

“Sure,” Remus said, feeling more wrong-footed than ever. And also slightly ill. Or was that swooping sensation in his stomach something else?

James gave him a breezy farewell salute and then loped off with the ease and grace of someone who already knew that the person they loved loved them back. The prick. 

Remus made his way to Lily’s trailer, which was his habitual starting point for each day. He let himself in, because that was what he was used to doing. He was halfway through closing the door behind himself and calling out a greeting when he realised exactly how many people were waiting for him in the trailer. 

There were three people waiting for him in the trailer.

Lily, facing away from the door, was occupied with the kettle. Sirius and another man who looked quite a bit like Sirius, but also jarringly different, were sitting side by side on the sofa.

“Hi,” said Sirius, while Remus took in the entire scene with an expression that he would soon come to regret. 

The man next to Sirius looked at Remus and seemed to notice everything about his regrettable expression. The man, who Remus was just about confident was Sirius’ brother, smiled in a satisfied sort of way.

“Hi,” he said. “You must be Remus.”

Sirius elbowed his brother, and his brother elbowed him back. Then Lily concluded her business with the teakettle and returned her attention to the trailer at large. 

“Remus!” she said, happy and apparently relieved. “You’re here!”

“I’m here!” Remus replied, while his eyes asked Lily,  _ ‘and what in the blazes is going on?’ _

Lily’s eyes replied,  _ ‘I’ll tell you later.’ _ Her mouth replied, “We were about to head to set. Maybe you could show Regulus around?”

“Er, aren’t we all going over together, anyway?” Sirius asked. He was glancing between Regulus and Remus with a look of concern. Regulus was smirking slightly. 

Lily shook her head. “No, of course we are, I just meant, maybe Remus could sort of show Regulus around today, in general? Keep him company and all? No need for him to just hang around while we shoot” — she glanced at Regulus — “er, not if he doesn’t want to, that is.”

Regulus laughed. “Sorry, but no, I think I’d rather not sit around like a useless lump all day while people with skills set up equipment around me.” 

Sirius elbowed him even harder. “That is _ not _ what actors do.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Lily said, her smile poorly concealed. “So, Remus, how about it?”

Everyone in the small room was now looking at Remus. It occurred to him that he was supposed to say something. 

“Oh, yes, I can do that,” he said. Then he saw how irritated Sirius appeared, and back-pedalled. “Er, If you don’t need me too much today, that is.”

Sirius looked encouraged at this, but Lily either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “No, no, we’ll be fine. We’re building off of the stuff we did yesterday. A lot of character work, not much historical nitpicking. We should be good.”

She spoke with authority of the director and of a woman who did not take kindly to supercilious contradictions. With her script in one hand and her tea in the other, she exited the trailer without a backwards glance. The three men traipsed after her, Sirius first and with a storm cloud face, then Regulus and Remus. Regulus gestured that Remus should go out the door in front of him. Remus complied, with the vague feeling that he was being made the butt of some joke he did not understand. 

Outside, Sirius was waiting while Lily strode on ahead. Remus smiled at Sirius, an invitation to normalcy that Sirius did not accept. Instead, he glared at his brother. 

“You’re a right prig, you know that?”

Regulus raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “I learned from the best.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and followed after Lily.

Remus watched him go, wishing he would turn around. Wishing he would smile.

“So, where are we going?” 

There was a smile on this face, at least. Not bright or consuming or any of the hundreds of tiny things Remus had come to associate with Sirius. But there, slight and challenging as it was. 

Remus shrugged. “What do you want to see?”

Regulus thought about it for a moment, scuffing the toe of his trainer against the brilliant dustiness of the earth. Then he looked up, something curious twisting his mouth.

“You’re the historian, right?”

“Er, yes,” Remus replied, unsure where this was going.

“Well, where do you think the most fascinating things are, then?”

Remus hesitated a bit at this. Where would he want to go if he only had one day in this weird little universe? He knew what the honest answer was. But he highly doubted Regulus would share in his tastes. 

The other man seemed to sense his apprehension. “Look, mate, I am completely out of my depth here. I’d mostly just like to sit somewhere dark and quiet and wait out my idiot brother. So wherever you like to go to pass the time, I promise you, I am on board.”

Well, that settled it, then.

He led Regulus in the opposite direction from the sound stage, into which both Lily and Sirius had disappeared. They walked down the line of trailers, passing by Elijah’s and Omar’s, Slughorn’s and Genevieve’s, the hair and make-up fleet and the costume armada. 

“God, it’s massive though,” Regulus muttered. 

Remus glanced at him. The farther they moved from Sirius, the more he seemed to relax. The hard-edged young man from the trailer was giving way to something far gentler and more thoughtful. And he wasn’t wrong: the lot was huge. Remus was struck with a reminder of how overawed he himself had been on his first day. Somewhere in the past two and a half months he had forgotten how very strange this life was. Soon, he would be gone from it. A week, a week and a half. 

The realisation stopped his breath for a moment. 

They were approaching, finally, the props department. The door of the trailer was open and the sound of Dinah humming along to the radio floated out to them. 

“This is it,” Remus said. “The props department.”

Regulus stopped walking and regarded the banged-up aluminium siding with a vague trepidation. 

“We can go inside?” he asked.

“Of course.”

Remus waited for Regulus to start up the stairs first. Inside, the trailer was dark and cool. It had to be light and temperature controlled, because some of the artifacts they were modelling with were very old and sensitive. The air smelled of fresh varnish, sawdust, and mildew. It was new and old together.

The sole light in the room was clamped onto Dinah’s work bench. It cast its strong white glare on a large vase, on a palette of metallic paints, and on Dinah’s own stained hands.

Remus cleared his throat loudly. Dinah had a tendency to become entirely absorbed in whatever she was doing, and Remus didn’t like to startle her.

She looked up at them, her face betraying her surprise for less than a half second. Remus could imagine the cogs turning behind her eyes, knew that she had probably figured out what was going on within a breath of catching sight of the two men at the door. 

But Dinah, being Dinah, hid all of this.

“Remus!” she greeted warmly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Remus gestured to Regulus. “I’m showing Regulus around set today, and I thought we’d see what you had going on. Regulus, this is Dinah, our props mistress.”

“Ah, hello, Regulus!” Dinah said. “Happy to have you, although I can’t say I’m doing anything particularly interesting today.” She nodded down at her work surface. “I’m just refinishing the urn for Patroclus’ funeral scene.”

The urn was intricately detailed with figures. Remus moved closer to look more carefully, beckoning Regulus to join him. On the side of the jar facing them, he could see two bodies intertwined. Their limbs were etched into the gold leaf in such a way that each twist of muscle seemed to flow into another. There was no telling the figures apart. It was only their heads, dipped together but not quite touching, that showed they were two. 

On the left side of the embracing figures was a canine figure, it’s body coiled light like a spring and its three heads intent on the central bodies. On the right side of the pair, a river rushed by, its rivulets and waves rendered with the finest of lines.

“I don’t recognise this tableau,” said Regulus, giving voice to the thought that had immediately risen in Remus’ mind as well. “It doesn’t look like a traditional funerary etching.”

Remus looked at him in surprise. “You know about  _ greek funerary imagery _ ?”

Regulus smiled again, that slight and challenging crescent of lip. “A bit,” he said.

Dinah was beaming at both of them. “You are quite right, it is not a traditional etching. Perhaps the other side will give you the answer.”

Carefully, she turned the vase around so that the light shone on the previously hidden portion. There, a slim young man with wings on his heels led a muscular youth by the arm. Behind them, a tall woman wearing a helmet and draped in a traditional peplos had a hand raised in farewell. In her other hand, she held a long spear. 

“You have Hermes,” Remus observed. “And Athena, it looks like.” She was usually pictured with helmet and spear. “But who’s with them? It looks like Achilles, but that doesn’t make sense. Patroclus dies before Achilles. His myth would never be on Patroclus’ urn.”

“Oh, but it is Achilles,” Dinah said, smiling mischievously. “That’s why I’m refinishing it.”

“You’re fixing it?” Regulus asked. “Painting over it?”

“No,” Dinah said. “I’m almost done. Just adding the finishing touches.”

“Alright, I’m lost,” Remus sighed, half amused and half exasperated. “I thought we agreed we’d use the geometric approach? It’s more period appropriate that way. That’s what I told Lily and that’s what she said we should go with.”

Dinah, who had settled the vase back on the work surface and was carefully depositing gold glaze to generate the impression of a raised engraving, kept working with her head bent low and her glasses perched on the very end of her nose. 

Remus threw a confused look at Regulus, whose peculiar smile stretched a little wider. 

“Dinah?” he prompted, when it became clear she had no plans to elaborate further. 

She didn’t look up. “Well, let’s say Lily called me last night and said she had a new plan, and that she wasn’t concerned with jettisoning some of the ‘accuracy’.”

“That would be a little peculiar,” Remus replied. “But I suppose if she did, she’d have a good reason for it.”

Dinah finally looked at him then. Her familiar, sharp eyes reflected the light of the work lamp. “And so she does. Ask her about it later.”

Remus chuckled. “Alright, alright. We’ll leave you be now.”

“Thank you for letting me see your work,” Regulus said earnestly. “You have a very precise hand.”

“Thank you, dear,” Dinah said. “From what I’ve heard, you do too. I love your recording of  _ Spiegel Im Spiegel _ . It is the only thing that centers me on a bad day.”

Remus looked in surprise from Dinah to Regulus. She had never mentioned knowing of Regulus beyond his capacity as Sirius’ brother. She was gazing at him now with a frank kindness, her hand, with the paintbrush still in it, poised above the urn. Regulus had become very pale and very still. 

“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. Dinah nodded in acknowledgement, then returned her attention fully to her work. She did not look at them again as they exited the trailer. 

On the hot earth outside, Regulus remained pale and quiet. 

“We could go to the beach where we filmed the landing scene next? Or the olive grove?” Remus didn’t mind if Regulus had nothing to say, but he preferred to be in motion if silence was to be the order of the day. 

“The olive trees, definitely,” Regulus said. “Hate the ocean. Too big.”

Remus had to laugh. He heard, so clearly it might have been happening just over his shoulder, how Sirius had remarked, only a few weeks before,  _ ‘The ocean — it’s so big’ _ . 

“What?” Regulus asked, sounding defensive.

“Oh, nothing,” Remus replied. “It’s just, you sounded so much like Sirius then.”

Regulus huffed a small, disbelieving laugh. “Sirius loves the ocean.”

“Yeah, for the exact same reason you hate it, apparently.”

Regulus laughed again, although the sound was bigger. More sure of itself. “That bloody contrarian. Typical.”

“Yeah,” Remus said, his smile stretching itself wide across his face without his bidding. “Typical.”

They began walking towards the olive grove. Remus hadn’t been there since the night of shooting the scene between Elijah and Genevieve. The one right after Sirius’ meltdown, when Elijah had been so uncertain about the direction the shoot was taking. The trees were as lovely in the daytime as they had been in the moonlight.

Being amongst the trees again, Remus remembered what Lily had said that night. She had spoken about Achilles being split between duty and desire. Except that when she had looked Remus in the eye, he had been certain she was talking about Sirius instead. 

Regulus had lapsed back into his pallid silence. 

Perhaps it was the way Lily and the fierce immediacy of her loyalty lingered in his thoughts. Perhaps it was Dinah and her forthright calm. Perhaps it was the ever-present influence of bold and mercurial Sirius floating around in his mind. In any case, he was suddenly tired of himself. Tired of his own reserved patience.

“What was that, in there?” he asked abruptly. “Why’d you seem so shocked when Dinah said she liked your recording?”

Regulus looked surprised by this change of tactic. For a moment, he even looked irritated. Or offended. But then his shoulders collapsed down in defeat and, his gaze fixed on the gnarled branches overhead, he said, “I suppose it was because of my parents.”

That was not the answer Remus had expected. “Oh?” he prodded. He was nervous about what he might hear, but also painfully curious. 

Regulus shrugged. “They never wanted me to add that one onto the album. Too simple, they said. Basic. Common. Embarrassingly emotional. But I love the piece a lot, so I went ahead and added it anyway. But I think they were probably right. So I was surprised she liked it. I think she may have been lying.”

Remus was certain Dinah had not been lying, but he did not think that Regulus would find that very reassuring. He cast his mind through the very little he knew of classical music. 

“That song — it’s fairly iconic, isn’t it? I’m sure I’ve heard of it, and I don’t generally listen to classical.”

Regulus shrugged again. If he tried any harder to be nonchalant, Remus mused, he was likely to hurt himself with the effort. 

“They use it all the time in film scores,” Regulus finally muttered. “That was why I wanted to play it, really. I thought Sirius might like it. He usually hates my music, because it reminds him of our parents. I thought if I played something familiar to his world — I don’t know. I suppose I thought he’d finally like something I’d done. And it is a beautiful song. It’s just — it’s not very technical, y’know? It’s about feeling. And I don’t think my parents liked that.” He shrugged yet again. “Yeah, I think our parents are sort of terrified of feeling.”

The words resonated through Remus. They shook his very bones. “I think a lot of people are,” he said, when his voice had returned to him.

Regulus met his eyes. He smiled his wistful critique of a smile. “I think you might you be right.”

  
  


**Sirius**

“CUT!”

_ Finally, finally, finally. _

Surely,  _ surely _ , it had been the longest day of Sirius’ entire life.

First, he had been desperate for lunch. Lunch had taken ages to come around. Lily was feeling picky and Alice kept shouting at her crew and Elijah looked half asleep half the time. A scene that should have taken three takes ended up taking thirty. The only good part about it was that Sirius wasn’t the problem. For once. 

When lunch finally came, Sirius was certain the agony would over.

But Remus and Regulus never showed up. Not ten minutes late, or twenty minutes late, or even forty-five minutes late. They simply  _ did not show up _ . 

James showed up, and he wasn’t even meant to. Where was the logic?  _ Where? _

~

“Pads, I’m sure they just lost track of time,” James said. “They might have wandered into town and gotten food there.”

“Town is fifteen kilometres away!”

“Maybe they were in the mood for a walk!”

Lily, busy nursing Harry, shushed the pair of them. “They both have their mobiles. If there was a problem, we would know. Let it be.”

Dinah wandered over then, Marlena by her side. 

“Oh, look at this big boy! So happy with his mama!” Marlena exclaimed over Harry. “Why did we never have one?” she asked Dinah.

Dinah pulled a face and held her hands up in surrender. Marlena batted her playfully against the shoulder. 

“What are you folks talking about?” Dinah asked. 

“Nothing,” said Sirius, at the same time as James said, “He’s worried about Remus and his brother.”

Sirius elbowed James hard in the ribs, but James didn’t seem to notice. Sirius had been elbowing his brothers quite a bit today. Neither of them appeared to learn much from it. 

Dinah smiled benignly as she took a seat beside Lily. She didn’t appear to notice the elbowing. “I saw the two of them this morning,” she said. “I think they were heading towards the olive grove.”

“See?” said James. “They’re fine!”

“James,” Sirius replied. “I swear to god —” 

~

After lunch, they shot another scene. Slughorn kept forgetting his lines and it took approximately eighty-five million takes before Lily said “CUT!” for the last time. 

“Finally!” said Fleur, who was fanning herself with a bounce board. “I thought zee day would never end!” She was so busy looking inconvenienced she didn’t notice the second assistant camera Elyse having a fit behind her. 

Genevieve rolled her eyes, and Sirius rolled his eyes alongside her in commiseration. Internally, he agreed wholeheartedly with Fleur. 

The problem was, Remus and Regulus were still nowhere to be found. 

_ It’s nothing, it’s nothing, it’s nothing _ , he told himself. 

“Hello, brother mine. You’re looking flustered. Lose something?”

He whipped around wildly. There stood Regulus and Remus. Both perfectly healthy. Both fully clothed.

“What do you mean?” his voice revealed far more agitation than he might have hoped.

Regulus raised both of his eyebrows as high as they would go. He waved Sirius’ script above his head. “I meant you dropped this, twat. Can we go home now? I’m absolutely  _ shattered _ .” He winked lasciviously with that last. Sirius elbowed him. It did no more good than the previous two times. 

Remus was stood slightly behind him. He smiled at Sirius, a delicate thing that seemed half uncertain of its place on his face. Sirius tried to smile back, but his lips felt numb. And he hadn’t even been drinking!

Had he been, the look of disappointment in Remus’ eyes might have been easier to bear. Or maybe not. No, it was hard to imagine a universe in which Remus Lupin looking disappointed would be any less painful.

Luckily, Lily soon relieved them all of their misery. She walked over to their awkward clump and began shooing Sirius off the set and towards his trailer. 

“Get changed out of costume and me and Reg will meet you back at the car with James.” She turned to Remus. “Are you driving with us today, Rem?”

Sirius hesitated on his way out the door just long enough to hear Remus’ answer. 

“No, I’ve said I’ll drive with Dinah and Marlena today. See you tomorrow?”

He was out of earshot before Lily could reply.

~

When they returned to the villa, Sirius went directly up to his bedroom. He was aware he was acting a bit like a hormonal teenager. This impression wasn’t helped by the fact that, the last time he had shared a home with his brother, he had in fact been a hormonal teenager. 

As he walked upstairs, he heard Regulus snicker down below. He also heard Lily shush him. They both sounded far too happy. 

It was just — what was he meant to do? 

It had all seemed so simple the night before. He came out to James and Lily, thus he was ready for Remus. Easy. 

But then Regulus had shown up and, well, he had bloody spoiled the momentum, hadn’t he? No, he hadn’t spoiled it. He had just taken it all for himself. The selfish git.

_ You don’t really think that _ , he told himself. 

_ No, of bloody course I don’t! Doesn’t mean it isn’t true! _

And now he was arguing with his own conscience. Grand, just grand. 

It might all have been salvaged the next morning, but as soon as he saw Remus, the horrible thought occurred to him that maybe Remus just didn’t  _ care _ anymore. After all, he’d never said he’d wait. He looked sad whenever they spoke, like he knew he was going to have to let Sirius down. And then Regulus had been there, being the little shit that he was, and the threat of a Someone Else became all too immediate. For all he knew, Remus was already involved. Probably not with Regulus — even he could see that that was a bit far fetched (at least now that both Remus and Regulus were accounted for) — but possibly with somebody! Who in their right mind would overlook Remus, after all?

He was drowning in the agony of this possibility when there was a knock at his door.

He groaned into his pillow as acknowledgment to the interloper. 

“Hello wanker,” said Regulus’ voice. 

Sirius flipped over onto his back and met his brother’s familiar eyes. He forced himself to think selfless, older-brotherly thoughts. “Hi,” he said. “Y’alright?”

Regulus shrugged. “M’alright. You?”

“Alright,” he said.

Regulus snorted. “No, you’re not. You’re bloody climbing the walls. James says you have been all day.”

Sirius turned back over onto his stomach in order to return his face to his pillow. “S’not about me. You’re here for you.”

Regulus didn’t reply for a moment. Long enough, indeed, that Sirius began to wonder if he had just given him up as a bad job and left the room. Next second, however, he could feel the bed depress under a new weight and the second after that, all the air was pushed from his lungs as a heavy something took a seat atop his back. 

“Regulus,” he groaned into the pillow with the little air left to him. He tried to shove him off, but he had forgotten how. His brother hadn’t used this tactic since they were children.

“Sirius,” Regulus said. “I. Am. Fine. I am here because I wanted a break. When we get back to London, you can help me. Right now, you do not need to. Right now, I am helping you. You are not alright. So. Bloody. Talk.” 

“It’s none of your business,” Sirius protested.

“It’s about Remus, right?” Regulus asked. “You and him — you have something going on?”

“No, I —”

“Look, mate, I’m sorry for teasing this morning. I wouldn’t have if I had known how much it would bother you. You know me, I start taking the mickey and I don’t always stop in time —”

“I said,  _ no _ ! Now gerroff me!”

Regulus slid off sideways and lay down next to Sirius, facing the ceiling while Sirius continued to lie facedown. 

“That’s a shame, then,” he said. “Because he really seems to like you a lot.”

“What?” Sirius asked. He turned over onto his back and sat up so quickly he gave himself a head rush.

“Yeah,” said Regulus, smiling his signature self satisfied smile again. “Wouldn’t stop mentioning you. Smiled whenever he said your name. Looked damn heartbroken whenever you didn’t smile back. But, you know, if you don’t feel that way for him, there’s no need to force it, you can always just —”

“Oh, shut up,” Sirius said. His words were harsh but his voice held no venom. He had no space for venom. He thought his chest might burst with the warm bubble of elation growing steadily inside of it. He jabbed Regulus in the shoulder. “Do you really think that?”

Regulus stayed on his back and looked at his brother in affectionate exasperation. “Yes, you pillock, I really think that. But why do you care? You don’t like him.”

Sirius dropped the nearest pillow atop Regulus’ head. 

“You’re suffocating me, now? If I had known fratricide was on the menu, I —” 

“See you later, arse hat!” Sirius called on his way down the stairs. 

  
  


**Remus**

When he arrived home with Dinah and Marlena, Remus immediately began cooking dinner. He needed something to do with his hands. Never mind that he was a terrible cook. Never mind that his mind was elsewhere entirely.

“Remus?” Marlena said from the kitchen doorway. “Do you want help cooking?” She was looking apprehensively at the ingredients he had arrayed across the counter. “I do not think we generally put mayonnaise in our spaghetti —”

“Could be interesting —” chimed in Dinah, who had come in behind her. “Like pasta salad.”

Marlena wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I will never understand the American appetite.”

Dinah picked up Marlena’s arm and placed it around her own shoulder, then laced her arms around Marlena’s waist. The movement was so natural, so accustomed. Dinah did it whenever she stood beside Marlena. 

“I’m just very tactile,” she had said in explanation, when Remus had once teased her about her constant need for hugs and touches. 

“I’m not,” Marlena had added. “But with Dinah? Eh, I don’t mind so much.”

He thought of that conversation now as he looked at them. Marlena absentmindedly wound her fingers through Dinah’s short hair while she continued to look troubled at the prospect of a Remus-prepared dinner. 

“How do you do it?” he asked them.

“Cook dinner? Remus, it’s very simple. You put the mayonnaise away, you fry some garlic —”

“No, no,” he cut Marlena off. “I meant, how do you — how do you —” he gestured vaguely at their intertwined forms. Then he gave up.

“Forget it.” His voice came out angry, agitated. Foreign to him. Dinah disentangled herself from Marlena and took a half step towards Remus.

“You just do, Remus,” she said. “You scare yourself shitless and you just do.”

Remus closed his eyes and tilted his face up to the ceiling. He wished it was raining. He wanted to feel it on his face. 

Malta didn’t get a lot of rain. Not in the summer. Less than a centimetre had fallen since they had arrived. He’d read that in a production report Ewan had left lying around. The production company had to keep track of that kind of thing. Old Blighty had probably gotten a hundred times that much since he had left. 

He never knew he would mourn a damp summer. 

For a long time, he thought he’d never want to spend any time in the rain ever again. The first time he’d walked down a rain-slick street — after he’d left hospital and Wales and moved to Oxford to find a new version of himself — he’d grown sick with the scent of it. He’d been terrified of the way the street lamps reflected off of the glowing pavement. It made him feel like a ghost.

But he loved rain. It made him feel clean. He loved the way the pressure of the atmosphere built, he loved the way the air grew thick and damp until it could hold nothing more. He loved the way it broke, and spilled, and wept. He loved it. 

And he lived in England, for god’s sake. There was no avoiding the rain.

So every time it rained, he went outside and smelled the petrichor. He smelled it and he looked at the puddles and he felt the droplets against his face. And eventually, he stopped feeling ill. And another eventually after that, he even started to feel strong.

“I wish it would rain,” he said to Dinah and Marlena. 

Dinah looked confused. Remus had never known her to look confused before. Marlena, however, gave him an appraising look.

“Go find some rain, then,” she said. 

Later he would reflect that it was probably what he had been about to do anyway. Later he would reflect that maybe Marlena knew that the only language a madman speaks is his own. Later he would wonder why those words had been exactly what he needed to hear, and he would find rational answers to the question, because rational answers were what he preferred. 

In the moment, he only ran. 

He was out of the flat in a moment, he was past the main street another minute after that. Almost before he had time to think about what he was doing, he was jogging down the winding, dune-side road that led up from the town to the big houses on the cliffs. 

He had a stitch in his side before he’d made it halfway. He bent over to catch his breath. And his train of thought.

_ This was embarrassing, wasn’t it? Two and a half months on a film set and suddenly he thought the world worked according to Hollywood logic? He gave up on being a hopeless romantic ten years ago, for god's sake. _

He was going to turn around and just go back to the mayonnaise spaghetti disaster. That was what he was going to do. Mayonnaise spaghetti disaster and friends and a good night’s sleep. He was not going to be the star-eyed kid again. Absolutely not. He just needed to catch his breath first. 

“Remus!”

He pulled his head up so quickly that the earth spun. But even the spinning earth could not blur the figure who was run towards him down the road.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't hate me! 😅
> 
> feel free to yell at me in the comments.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My. Goodness. 
> 
> We're back, babyyyy.
> 
> (note the most recent tags xx)

**Sirius**

Remus was looking at him. 

He was. His head had turned and his eyes had locked and his mouth had opened in an ‘ _ o’ _ of surprise, the most tempting, terrifying chasm Sirius had ever laid eyes on. He wanted to get lost in it. He wanted to run away. 

He did neither. 

Instead, his legs carried him closer, step by step and breath by gasping breath.

Soon — and it was too soon, far too soon, his mind only just catching up with the reality of the moment; and yet it was also an age, and he was growing old with the waiting, the endless waiting — he found himself directly in front of Remus. 

Remus, whose eyes were wide and pupils dilated.

Remus, who was here, like a vision summoned by Sirius’ most desperate wishes, his curly hair wild with the wind and his cheeks flushed pink and his lips parted and wondering. “Sirius?” he asked, and the sound was hardly more than an exhale but still, it crashed over Sirius like a tidal wave. 

No, not a tidal wave. This didn’t feel like drowning; not anymore. Rather, it felt like maybe he was finally glimpsing the sunlight that waited for him at the surface.

Sirius said nothing, only stood there, his eyes darting from one of Remus’ to the other. Seeking permission, or reassurance, or maybe just that sense of home that he had discovered there all those weeks ago. Discovered there before he even knew how to name it.

And it was there; still there. It was clouded with confusion and surprise and that special glint that Sirius had come to learn was Remus figuring everything out. And for the first time in forever, being seen and discovered and untangled didn’t feel like trespass.

“Sirius?” Remus whispered again.

Sirius licked his lips. He tried to speak. “I —”. 

But words were not what he wanted right now, and in any case, they wouldn’t express a fraction of what he needed them to. 

Eyes still locked on Remus’, he took one, last, stumbling step forwards. He raised a hand, and slowly — so slowly — he pressed it to Remus’ cheek. And Remus — Remus pressed back, the warm, stubble-rough skin of his cheek tickling Sirius’ palm.

At first it’s only a faint brush of lips. Sirius leans back slightly to check Remus’ face, to discover if he has brazened himself once more into something he doesn’t understand. Remus’ eyes are nearly entirely closed, just lashes fanned across cheeks and a glimmer of whiskey colour. His lips are still parted invitingly, and that’s all Sirius has time to process before the draw overwhelms him again and he is leaning back in

And then it was gravity, really, more than anything else, and isn’t that what this had been all along? Just an undeniable force of the universe? Just lips crushed together and roving hands and the heavy, incontrovertible weight of  _ this matters _ making every piece of him feel grounded for the first time in he doesn’t know how long. Sirius tries to put everything into the kiss: his newfound certainty, the decisions he’s made. He doesn’t know if he succeeds, but either way, Remus is kissing him back, his mouth hot and curious, his hands roaming wonderingly over Sirius’ back.

When they finally parted for breath, and Sirius reopened his eyes, the world looked green. He blinked to restore the balance of the golden sunlight, and to bring Remus’ face back into focus. His hair was falling into his eyes, but he could see that Remus looked as awestruck as he felt. 

Remus lifted his hand and ran his fingers lightly back and forth over his kiss-plump lips. “That was surprising.”

Sirius, whose eyes were following the path of Remus’ fingers, abruptly swept his gaze upwards in order to find Remus’ eyes instead. They were crinkled at the corners. 

“Good surprising?” he asked, although he thought he already knew the answer.

“Very good,” Remus whispered. He reached out a hand and brushed the falling locks of hair away from Sirius’ face. He was leaning in again already, his lips ready and tantalising

And Sirius, who had never been one to hesitate, squeezed Remus on his upper arm and said, “Wait.”

Remus froze, uncertain, and Sirius hurried to explain. “I just — well, last time, you said you wanted to wait until I was ready, and —”

“It’s okay, Sirius, I should never have pressured you —”

“You didn’t pressure me, you —”

“I’m ready to try, and I’m tired of —”

Sirius began to laugh. He couldn’t help himself, the relief and the joy were starting to hit him now, and suddenly everything in the world seemed funny. Not least of which was that, apparently, he and Remus had had simultaneous epiphanies. 

Remus stopped trying to explain himself, a crooked smile spreading across his face. “What?” he asked. 

Sirius took a deep breath, shaking his head ruefully back and forth. “What I was  _ trying _ to say,” he said, “is that — well, I came out. To, er, Lily and James. And Regulus. I told them that I’m — that I’m gay.”

He’d said it out loud three times now, and it still made his pulse race. He willed his heart rate back down and met Remus’ eyes. Remus’ eyes that were shining like the last rays of sunlight against the glittering ocean. 

“I just — I realised that if I’m going to be good for other people, for Reg and for Haz, and for — for you, and for everyone else, well, I need to be good for myself first. And this is good for me. I know it is. And you’re —  _ you’re _ good for me. And finally, fuck —” he looked away from Remus and towards the horizon, where the last whisps of orange cloud were mixing with the purple sky — “finally I’m doing something that isn’t about my parents. I’m not trying to spite them, or run away from them, or from the things they made me afraid of. I’m doing it for me. And that, fuck,” — he brushed his hand across his eyes, annoyed but not surprised to find them damp with the tears — “fuck, I’m just —”

But there’s nothing left to say, really. He’s never been good at his own words, so much better at channeling a character or a script or even a comic persona, an elevated Sirius that the public might think of as him but which was distant from him as Jupiter from the Sun. 

He forced himself to look back at Remus, to discover how his revelations had been met. Remus was watching him, the expression on his face impossible to read. 

~

**Remus**

Remus felt as if his femurs were floating somewhere above his kneecaps, disconnected but still aligned. Usually, he associated this feeling of unreality with something sinister. Sometimes, he associated it with red wine. Just now, it had much more to do with the flashing of Sirius’ eyes as he unreeled his thoughts like a magician pulling a chain of handkerchiefs from his sleeve.

And the only thing in Remus’ mind was:  _ I think I love you. I really think I love you. _

He tensed for the fear that would follow that thought, and when it didn’t come, he met an entirely new kind of terror: the absence of fear where it ought to have been. Fear had been a protection: a signal to retreat or to steel himself or to pay closer attention. He’d lived with the fear for so long, adapting to it and making allowances for it, like a tree that’s made to grow around a metal stake. When the stake was removed, the hole remained. 

Dinah was right: he wasn’t doomed. And not because he was defeating his past or forgetting it, but because Sirius was here, letting history engulf him even as he released himself from its hold, and Remus’ mind was reordering itself. He watched cruel memory and bastard hope and the unavoidable, beloved, painful, precious, in-and-out breath of the present coexist. 

A euphoria he didn’t recognise filled him up like a helium balloon. Without pausing to reconsider, he reeled Sirius back in for another long, searing, breathless kiss. Then, to his wonderment, Remus was crying, and they were the first tears that he’d felt against his cheeks in years and years. Sirius broke the kiss and swiped at the tears with his own long, calloused fingers, his voice low and solicitous as he asked Remus if everything was alright. 

“Yes,” Remus choked, truthful. Sirius watched him carefully for a moment, then nodded. He took Remus by the hand, and it was odd, but the feeling of that strong, warm hand around his own was more affecting than even the kiss had been. There’d been kisses over the years — good ones, bad ones, hot ones and chaste ones and the ones remembered alone in the shower and the ones forgotten as quickly as possible. There had been no hands to hold. There had been no thumbs to rub gently along his knuckles.

“We could walk?” Sirius asked, nodding towards the beach. Remus had to laugh, even as his eyelashes remained wet with tears. It was the same stretch of beach where Sirius had first kissed him, and where they had watched the stars together while eating soft cheese. It was their beach. 

“Yeah, let’s,” Remus replied, and he let Sirius lead him by the hand to the place where the water kissed the sand in a ragged line of foam.

~

They walked through the night. When they grew tired, they sat. When they grew cold, they raced one another down the beach and embraced and kissed until their blood was warm again. 

Conversation was their steady companion, sometimes bubbling over as they talked and laughed and nearly shouted over one another in their eagerness, sometimes simmering low and quiet in the background as they let other things take precedence. 

Sirius asked Remus about the day he had spent with Regulus, curious to learn the things they had talked about and Remus’ impressions of his brother. Remus asked Sirius about his early days in the industry, those hungry years when he was feuled by ambition and self-belief and not much else. 

They compared ice cream preference and favourite smells, then somehow got around to abusing the Tories and the American government, which seemed closer and closer to implosion with each passing day. They discussed the production, their hopes for it and the people they would miss when it was wrapped. Slughorn, who Remus could hardly abide but Sirius found funny, and Genevieve with her sharp tongue and hard head and soft heart. 

As the night marched around towards morning and they grew in turns earnest and silly with exhaustion, Sirius admitted that he was scared to let the world see the film; that he had put so much of himself into Achilles, more than he had ever allowed himself to put into a character before. Remus, half-gone with tiredness and tiptoeing along the precipice of love, quoted Rilke in response.

_ “How should we be able to forget those ancient myths that are at the beginning of all peoples, the myths about dragons that at the last moment turn into princesses; perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave. Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us.” _

Sirius laughed at him and called him a  _ bloody aesthete _ , but his eyes glowed, and when Remus reached the end of the bit he had memorised and started mumbling every other word, Sirius shut him up with a kiss. 

When the sun began peeking over the horizon, lightening the sky by degrees, they returned to the apartment Remus shared with Marlena and Dinah in the town. 

“Will you come up?” Remus asked, knowing the answer but hoping anyway. 

Sirius shook his head, eyes smiling but lips downturned. “You’re call time is much earlier than mine today. You should grab some sleep while you can.” It was true — the crew had been called far earlier that day than the actors, and Sirius could sleep until ten if he so chose — but they both knew it wasn’t the real reason Sirius declined. 

“Soon,” Sirius whispered, before pressing one, last, lingering kiss to Remus’ lips and turning to pace away down the road.

**~**

**Sirius**

It was the final day on set for much of the ensemble cast. The entire crew applauded as Ewan announced production wraps for Slughorn, Fleur, and Omar. Lunch that day was a celebration: James swept in like the world’s rowdiest, most casually-dressed butler bearing platters of food from the restaurant they had all visited on the first night, and Slughorn made an enormous fuss out of presenting Lily with a bottle of champagne.

“For our fearless leader!” he cried jovially. “May your star only continue to rise!” 

Everyone applauded again, and Lily gave a beaming smile that turned from pleased to affectionately exasperated when Horace continued, “This bottle cost me three hundred quid! So enjoy it!” He then made a brief show of reluctance when Lily tried to take it from his hand. 

Remus was standing to Lily’s left, across the table from Sirius, and their eyes met briefly as everyone indulged Slughorn in another laugh. Remus rolled his eyes and then winked, and Sirius was thrust back into memories of the night before and the conversations they had shared. 

And then the things they had done when the conversations ceased. 

His focus, which had been flighty at best throughout that morning’s scenes, abandoned him completely. He stared mesmerised at Remus until a hearty throat-clearing by his shoulder shook him from his fantasies. 

It was Slughorn, standing with a hand outstretched and a twinkling smile on his face. 

“Sirius, m’boy!” he rumbled. “It was an honour to share the stage with you, so to speak. You’re a fine young actor.”

Sirius clasped Slughorn’s hand. “Pleasure was all mine, Horace,” he said. He was an actor, after all, and he knew a cue when he heard one.

Slughorn laughed again, all self-satisfaction. “And don’t forget it!

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Sirius laughed too, and the sound was almost manic to his ears. Fuck, but could they all just leave already? He was starting to see what Remus had meant last night. Slughorn was a bit of an arse.

At last, Slughorn moved on to terrorising Elijah — and it was terror in his case, his eyes wide and surprised as the older actor turned on the charm he reserved only for those he thought might take him to high places. Elijah was too green and too humble to know that Slughorn’s uncomfortable attentions were only an indication of the potential he so obviously possessed. 

Sirius turned to give Remus another comiseratory look but stopped when he found Lily smiling at him like the cat that ate the canary. She had been gone already when he returned to the villa that morning, and James had been preoccupied with a squalling Harry. Regulus, blessedly, had still been asleep, and so Sirius had managed to avoid the inquisition thus far. He knew he wouldn’t be so lucky for long.

He looked back to his plate and watched the spice-red oil pooling in the crinkles of the plastic border. He could feel himself flushing, the heat like an iron pressed against his face. 

He never used to blush. 

When lunch was over, they returned to set to the soundstage to shoot that afternoon’s scene. Lily and Alice had made every effort to shoot the film sequentially — Lily believed in giving her actors the opportunity to work through their characters’ progressions as naturally as possible — but, well, film was a business as much as it was an art form, and certain constraints had come into play. 

Money. The constraints were money. 

What that meant for today was that they were shooting a scene from very early in the script. Sirius and Elijah were being forced to age their characters, who had grown to maturity over the course of the film, back down to adolescence.

“This feels very weird,” Sirius told Belinda, as she restyled his wig to match the continuity shots they had from the previous ‘Young Achilles’ scenes. 

“Mmm,” she hummed around the pins in her mouth. 

“Like, very weird. And who the fuck is going to believe I’m sixteen? This is what’s wrong with Hollywood.”

“Stop talking,” Erika, the makeup assistant, warned. She was preparing his face with her signature series of ointments and tinctures. Feeling his cheeks, she scowled at him. “You’d be much easier to pass off as a sixteen year old if you had remembered to bloody shave.”

Sirius felt himself flush again. He had  _ known _ while getting ready to leave that morning that there was something important he was forgetting, but in his lovestruck and sleep deprived state, he could not for the life of him remember  _ what _ . 

As Erika ran off to find the disposable razor and shaving foam, Belinda peered at him over the tops of her narrow spectacles, finding his eyes in the mirror’s reflection. 

“Good night last night?” she asked.

“What?” Sirius spluttered.

“Only, you look like a raccoon and you smile every time you think no one is looking.”

Sirius sniffed. “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.” 

When Erika returned with the shaving kit, he was more careful to squelch his smiles. All his efforts towards circumspection failed, however, when it came time to apply makeup.

“What did you do?” she wailed, contemplating his under-eyes. “You look like you haven’t slept for forty years.”

She wasn’t really looking for a reply and he didn’t supply her with one. He leant back and tried to sink into the nonbeing of the makeup chair while she worked her magic.

She dabbed orange powder under his eyes to cancel out the blueish tint that betrayed his sleeplessness, then layered on more concealer, foundation, and bronzer. Sirius felt like a cake, but he couldn’t find it in himself to complain about the many layers of pigment. At least they spared him from sharing his continuous blush with the entire world. He had more sympathy for Elijah with every passing moment.

When Belinda and Erika finally deemed him “passable” and “as close to sixteen as he was ever going to get,” he shrugged on the ‘Young Achilles’ tunic and tromped his way to set. Lily, Elijah, and the entire crew were already waiting for him there. 

Remus was there.

Sirius tried very hard to ignore that fact, but it didn’t work. He watched Remus and carefully searched for the man’s reaction to his ludicrous appearance as he made his way towards Lily and her ever-present, mildly-threatening clipboard. 

“Sirius!” Lily exclaimed upon seeing him. “Kind of you to join us at last.”

“Not my fault,” he grumbled without malice, still watching Remus. Remus was watching him back which — well, he wished he was wearing more than a thin cotton tunic and a leather belt. 

Lily cleared her throat meaningfully, and he looked towards her. Her eyebrows were quirked in a most irritating fashion. He wanted to kick her. (He wanted to get Remus alone again far more, but as far as things that felt possible, kicking Lily was a bit nearer to hand).

Elijah didn’t appear to have any understanding of the bolts of desire and smugness that were shooting around the sound stage. He merely stood in his place, looking dishevelled and young and perfectly suited to his role. The bastard.

“So,” Lily said, still smiling. Sirius hated her and loved her in equal measure. “Today we finally have the lyre-lesson scene. It’s a weird feeling, shooting this scene, which is really the first significant interaction between these two characters, just as we come to the end of our work with them. Before we jump in, any outstanding thoughts or questions?”

Elijah, predictably, cleared his throat and opened his mouth, ready to speak at Lily’s first invitation. She nodded to him.

“So, this scene,” he clarified, as if there was anything else they could possibly be talking about. “Is this the scene where they fall in love?”

Well, fuck. 

Lily pursed her lips and, as was her habit, turned the question back on both of them.

“I’m not sure,” Elijah said, “because when I look at the beats of the scene — Sirius rescues me from punishment, and then takes me to his music lesson, and then I listen to him play his lyre and it’s amazing — like, that all sounds like the ingredients for falling in love. Gratitude and awe and respect. And like, just, kindness.”

Lily only hummed, and turned to face Sirius. Once again, he refocused his wandering gaze — only Remus’ back was visible now as he discussed with Dinah the relative merits of various lyres — and met her knowing gaze. Determined not to give her any more satisfaction, he searched through the part of his mind that stored the last words spoken to him without really understanding them. 

“Those might be the ingredients for love,” he said finally, “but I don’t know that they will be received that way immediately.”

Lily smiled, her satisfaction warming rather than galling. She waved her hand, encouraging him to elaborate. 

He closed his eyes briefly in an effort to clear his mind and organise his thoughts, and his exhaustion asserted itself like sand trapped behind his lids. When he reopened them, Remus had turned around again. He was watching him, and smiling gently. He looked even more exhausted than Sirius felt. 

“Well, they don’t know each other yet, right? And, I mean, all of those beats that you referenced” — he flicked his gaze towards Elijah — “they’re accurate, but they hold other things within them, too. Like, why is Achilles in the position to save Patroclus from punishment? Because Achilles is still a prince, and Patroclus has been exiled. What instrument is Achilles playing at the music lesson? Patroclus’ mother’s lyre. So sure, there’s gratitude and respect but there’s also resentment and jealousy and well, I mean,” he licked his lips and his eyes, without his bidding, met Remus’ again. “They might be falling in love, but I don’t think either of them realise it yet. Or, at least, Patroclus doesn’t. He’s very — he’s very young. He doesn’t know anything yet.” 

It was a lame way to finish, but he had run out of steam. And anyway, they  _ were _ very young. And Sirius was starting to feel the rawness of that in his bones and not just in the makeup slathered on his face.

When they began rolling, Sirius pulled the memory of that first shared cigarette outside of the restaurant to the forefront of his mind. The feelings he hadn’t understood but which he now recognised as the first inklings of love. 

Looking at Elijah, he saw only Patroclus, lost in a web of frustration and resentment. The very same web Sirius had viewed as native to himself for so long. In that moment, it was all too easy to be sixteen years old, confronted for the first time with feelings too tangled and too terrifying to comprehend.

~

**Remus**

Watching films as a child, Remus had never given the “how” of their creation much thought. They simply existed, enrapturing and alien and, sometimes, overwhelming. 

Then, helping Lily with her projects in uni, the whole business began to seem ordinary. Everything had been on a small scale: a single camera, a dinky pair of LED lights from the University’s media centre, a microphone that had seen better days. Setting up had taken a matter of minutes, because how hard could it be to reposition two light sources and a DSLR camera? The secrets of Hollywood had seemingly been unveiled—nothing special after all, just standing about in the rain holding a long stick until your hands and feet were numb.

Now, standing on a real soundstage, in a corner where he wouldn’t get underfoot, he watched the vast beast of production trundle through its habitual steps. The assistant camera people repositioned the black behemoth, Alice oversaw the electrical team as they relit the set, Trevor checked the audio levels and then checked them again. Then, when all was said and all was done, Lily glanced at the monitor, threw out a couple off-hand notes, and the adjustments began all over again. 

It was thrilling and it was boring. It was novel and it was repetitive. Mostly, it was exhausting. Or, at least, Remus was exhausted. He was also mesmerised.

Sirius was mesmerising.

Just, entirely intoxicating in every respect from his improbably fetching wig to the rippling muscles of his shoulders beneath the thin fabric of his tunic to the aching sincerity in his bright grey eyes.

Just now, those eyes were locked on his. Sirius was across the room in his folding chair, sipping absentmindedly from a plastic water bottle, flipping back and forth through the pages of the dogeared script in his lap, and watching Remus.

He smiled at Remus and raised his eyebrows.

Remus wrinkled his nose.

Sirius sucked in his cheeks, making a fish-face.

Remus stretched his tongue up and out to touch the tip of his own nose.

Sirius, who’d just taken another gulp of water, snorted and spewed the water out through his nose and all over the cotton of his tunic and the pages of his script. 

Within a split second, Marlena and Belinda had descended on him like carrion birds. 

“Amore!” Marlena chastised as she dabbed at the wet spot on his chest. “If you thought you were going to make a mess, you should have asked for a bib!”

“We’ll need more powder,” said Belinda, gesturing for Erika. 

“Bring the hair dryer as well!” Marlena yelled after her as she ran for the HMU trailer. “We’ll need to dry this tunic out.”

Lily, who was discoursing with Alice about lenses, heard and spun around. “What do we have here?” she asked.

“Silly boy dribbled water on his costume,” Marlena explained. “At least it wasn’t that ridiculous Gatorade he likes.”

“Mmm,” Lily hummed. She looked over her shoulder and, finding Remus looking sheepish and sitting directly in Sirius’ eye line, grinned wickedly. “Good thing indeed.”

“It will dry on its own in a moment!” Sirius protested as Erika, having returned with the hairdryer, plugged it in, turned it on to its highest setting, and pointed it directly at his chest. He looked absolutely miserable. Remus might have felt guilty if it hadn’t all been so endearing. 

By the time Marlena, Belinda, and Erika had decreed Sirius once again presentable, the technical crew had finished setting up. They were ready for the final shot of the day—a wide angle of the lyre scene that they had saved for last because Alice planned to attempt some more sophisticated motion. 

Usually, they started with the wide and worked their way in closer, giving the actors a chance to warm up their performances before the intimacy of the close-ups. In this case, however, they were banking on Alice’s and Lily’s perfectionism: putting it last, they could keep going until it was perfect. Or until they went into overtime. Whichever came first. 

(It was always the overtime).

Sirius and Elijah got into position in the centre of the set, Sirius in an intricately carved wooden chair and Elijah cross-legged on the ground nearby. The crew scattered to the perimetres of the room to leave the entirety of the dressed stage free and open. Alice, getting settled in her rig, checked the work of the focus puller and nodded her approval. She threw a thumbs up to Lily. 

They were relying on lavaliers for this shot, since the boom operator wouldn't be able to get close enough to capture good sound without stepping into frame. Trevor stood out of the way, listening intently through his headphones and adjusting the lavs on the fly. Lily wore headphones to listen along to the dialogue. Ewan and Ellen the script supervisor were kitted out with headphones as well.

“Ready, boys?” Lily asked.

Sirius nodded a slightly listless assent. It seemed the length of his day had begun to hit him. Elijah threw out two thumbs up. 

“Fantastic,” Lily said. “Alright then. Camera rolling?”

“Rolling!”

“Sound speeding?”

“Spee—”

A loud ringing interrupted Trevor’s reply. 

“Quiet on set!” Ewan roared. 

Kristy ran forwards, holding the ringing mobile in her outstretched hand. 

“It’s yours, Ewan,” she said apologetically. 

“Oh bugger,” Ewan said, taking it from her. And then, checking the display, he yelped, “ _ Oh  _ BUGGER!” He ripped his headphones and their receiver off and bundled them, alongside his clipboard, into Remus’ hands. He then sprinted from the soundstage, picking up the call as he went. 

A brief moment of shocked silence followed this uncharacteristic explosion. Then, Lily clapped her hands together and called the room to order. 

“Ellen, you’ll cover for Ewan until he’s back. Camera still rolling? Sound still speeding? Actors still ready? Alright, then let’s go.”

Remus turned to Kristy, holding out Ewan’s headphones. “What should I do with these?” he asked. 

“You can wear them, if you like,” she said. Her walkie talkie was going off and she was walking away before Remus could ask her anything else. 

Remus, used to the punishing pace of the set by then, shrugged, tugged the headphones on, and clipped the receiver pack to his belt. Then, receding back into his corner, he watched the action unfurl all over again. 

Sirius and Elijah had gone through the scene twelve times by then and Remus had to restrain himself from speaking the lines along with them.

_ “I should not be here”, said Patroclus. “Your father will be angry.” _

_ “Nonsense”, said Achilles. “You are my invited companion. I want you here.”  _

_ “Why?” asked Patroclus, the heat of his shame and resentment warring with the chill of his fear and isolation.  _

_ Achilles paused, a long beat, before answering. “Because I do,” he finally said. Were he not a prince, it would have been no answer at all. As he was, Patroclus made no argument.  _

As the two conversed, Alice was swooping silently around them in a semicircle. She kept well distant from them, the golden haze the lighting team had worked so hard to perfect acting as a buffer between the two boys and the rest of the world.

_ Achilles reached for the gilded chest that sat beside his chair and pulled out an instrument, finely detailed and exquisitely crafted. Patroclus stiffened, recognising the instrument as the one that had once belonged to his mother. He had lost his right to it when had lost his prince hood and his freedom.  _

_ Achilles observed the movement—or rather, the cessation of it— and raised his eyebrows at Patroclus. He asked no question, however, only placed his fingers carefully and began to play.  _

Sirius had never met a lyre before the beginning of shooting, but it was not for nothing that he had been the lead guitarist in internationally renowned musician James Potter’s first ever band. A musical antiquities specialist had come in several weeks previous and taught him some basics. He’d run with it from there. 

_ As Achilles played, the golden air around the two boys seemed to turn to stone. It was a stillness alien to their world. It was a breath held by the gods. Patroclus watched Achilles play in rapt silence, his eyes glimmering.  _

_ Achilles slipped from his chair, coiling himself on the floor beside Patroclus. Patroclus adjusted with his entire body as Achilles resettled and his eyes never moved from the other boy’s downwards tilted face.  _

_ As the music trickled to its end, Patroclus hurried to look away before Achilles could look up and find his jealous eyes. He watched his hands, picking at the rough fabric of his hem, as Achilles laid the instrument tenderly back inside the chest. _

_ “Are you ready to go?” he asked Patroclus. _

_ Patroclus nodded but made no move to get up.  _

_ Achilles watched him, curious and slightly apprehensive. _

Alice tripped over a cable that hadn’t been properly taped down. Lily nearly screamed for the cut as she bolted forwards to steady Alice. From the other side of the room, the first AC, Edgar, came running to save the camera and its rig from crashing to the ground. 

“Are you alright?” Lily asked, looking at Alice with a gravity that Remus could not parse.

“I’m fine, Lils,” she said. “Just stumbled on the cable.” She used the toe of her boot to indicate the precarious tape job.

Lily glared daggers at Edgar.

He raised his hands defensively. “We’ll fix it!”

“Do it now.”

As Edgar beckoned for the second AC to come forwards with the gaff tape, Remus was shaken by a sudden chill. It was doubtless his sleeplessness. He’d read somewhere that when your sleep cycle was out of whack, it screwed with your metabolism. He searched for his jumper in his bag and pulled it on over his head, sending the headphones askew. He cursed and wished for a speedy end to the day. He wanted a nap. He wanted a nap with Sirius. 

The very thought made him warm enough that the jumper felt unnecessary. But, well, it was already on. And it was cosy. 

Soon, the cable was stuck to the cement ground with tape enough to ensnare the Loch Ness monster. They commenced their second take. It went pretty smoothly, for the most part, and they nearly reached the end of the scene.

_ “Are you ready to go?” Achilles asked Patroclus. _

_ Patroclus nodded but could not bring himself to rise. _

_ Achilles only looked at him, clearly unwilling to disrupt the silence stretching between them. _

It was as they reached that moment again, the end of the lyre solo, that Ewan reentered the room. He came in quietly, but there were soon enough heads turning towards him to discover the reason for his fervent whispers that Lily was compelled to call for another cut. 

“What the hell is going on?” she demanded to know. 

Ewan swore and apologised. “I was going to wait, but—that call, it was from Moody’s assistant. He’s—ah, well he’s here. He wants to watch the end of today’s shoot. 

The door to the sound stage reopened then. A tall man with shaggy yellow-grey hair and an eye patch clumped his way in. He was trailed by three assistants, all in various stages of nervous breakdown.

“Evans!” he boomed. “I was worried I’d miss the entire shoot. I got stuck in LA. Goddamned Vance is three weeks behind on principle photography.”

“Alastor,” Lily greeted. “If you persist in interrupting me mid-take, I’ll fall behind soon, too. I pity Emmeline if she’s had you on set this whole time.”

The entire crew seemed to hold its breath. Even Remus, who was as novice as one could get in the world of filmmaking, was shocked by Lily’s forthrightness. (Or, he would have been, had he not known Lily so well). 

Moody only laughed. “Alright, alright, point well made,” he said. “If someone will just give me an audio kit, I promise to be nice and quiet.”

As the crew let out its communal breath, Remus hurried to pull his headphones off. It wasn’t as if he needed them, and he could see from the look on Lily’s face that expediency would be vastly appreciated. 

However, he forgot about the jumper he’d put on after the previous take. He found that the wire connecting the earpiece to the audio receiver was stuck beneath it and he was soon in a very awkward tangle of arms, wool, and state-of-art audio equipment. By the time he got himself free, Kristy had unearthed an extra set for the producer. Remus shrank back into his corner, feeling warm for more reasons than just the knit covering his arms.

The cast and crew went back to one and the intricate choreography of actors and camera began again. 

For the third time, they were rounding the last lap of the scene. Alice’s footwork was precise and her focus was true. The performances, already good their first time through, now had the lush comfort of well-worn moccasins. Remus was sure this one was going to be it. He could already feel the pillows of the couch in Sirius’ trailer. 

_ “Are you ready to go?” Achilles prompted Patroclus. It was time to face his father.  _

_ Patroclus jerked his head in assent but stayed seated, his fingers worrying the fabric of his tunic. _

_ Achilles chewed his lip as he waited for the other boy to rise. _

_ “Patroclus?” _ Remus mouthed along from his place in the corner.

_ “Patroclus?” _ Ellen read from the script in her hand.

_ “Patroclus?” _ Lily thought, well versed in this scene she had rewritten and reshot so many times.

“Remus?” whispered Sirius, who was very sleep deprived and very full of feelings and who, perhaps, hadn’t really been in character today at all. 

He spoke quietly, and only Elijah and those armed with headphones and receivers heard him. 

Remus, still perched in his shadowy corner, felt his breath catch. All tiredness gone, he looked from side to side but found that there was no reaction. No one else in the crew had heard.

Lily, momentarily taken aback, was a second late in calling for the cut. Sirius was frozen in place, a tableaux of uncertainty. Elijah was thinking through something very carefully as he watched Sirius with concern. Ellen, who had heard the mistake through her headphones, sighed and took a deep draught from her coffee cup. She then scribbled a note on her clipboard to pass on to the post-production supervisor later and turned the pages of her script back to the start of the scene. Trevor, hyper-focused on his sound mixer, knew exactly the decibel at which Sirius had spoken but couldn’t for the life of him have told anyone what it was he had said. 

Alice, exasperated that her so-far-perfect take had been interrupted, looked at Lily in exasperation. She hadn’t heard a thing, plugged into her zone of camerawork and utterly deaf to the world. Lily shook her head curtly, discouraging her from asking any questions. Alice, getting the memo, called for her team to go back to one. 

Moody, glaring around the room, said, “And who the bloody hell is—”

“ _Achoo!_ ” Elijah said, ‘sneezing’ hugely and upsetting Achilles’ wooden chair with his arms. “Oh, geeze, I’m sorry,” he said. “Allergies.”

Erika ran forwards with a paper hanky and powder brush. Someone righted the chair, checking its placement against the continuity shot. By the time everything was set back to rights, Moody had been drawn in by the siren call of email, all misspoken lines apparently forgotten.

Remus, who had felt his heart jump from his chest to his throat and then down to his stomach, finally recommenced breathing. As he did so, and his brain caught up with the reality of the moment, he felt an electric current rush from the centre of his chest through the tip of his every finger and toe.

Sirius had said his name. Sirius had said his name, instead of Patroclus’. 

Lily stepped forwards towards her actors. Remus, still wearing his headphones, could hear every word she spoke as she drew near enough to get picked up by the lavs. 

“You guys are doing really damn well,” she said. “I know today has been long and I know we’ve done this scene to death. We are very, very close to the finish line here. The emotions are there. You two know these characters backwards and forwards and inside out. So let’s not lose sight now. Let’s not get lazy now. Both of you—” she paused until she had looked each of them in the eye’ “—both of you, shake out the cobwebs. Get present. Let’s dig in now. Let’s dig in because we are so bloody close.”

She called to mind a Greek general, mustering his armies. Elijah, at least, seemed ready to march through flames at her behest. Sirius just glared back at her, matching her level of ferocity. 

Remus shifted in his seat, unable to settle. The electric current had not subsided in the slightest. Its source only sank lower, moving from his chest to wriggle in his belly

When they started again, the familiarity of the performances had gone, the words turning from worn-out moccasins to brand-new wooden clogs. Achilles and Patroclus watched one another, intent and curious. Sirius was mischievous and unburdened. Elijah rode the line between caution and enchantment. Alice moved with a goddess-given grace and surety of step. 

When Lily called for the cut, there was a moment of static, breathless silence. Lily looked at Alice. Alice looked back at Lily. Lily nodded. Alice did too. 

“That’s a goddamn wrap on scene seven,” Lily pronounced. 

“Oh thank GOD!” Elijah said. 

It was the loudest Remus had ever heard him speak. And he had never agreed with anything more.

~

**Sirius**

Someone came to help him out of his mic. The entire soundstage was a mass of bodies as the crew worked to pack up in double time. He couldn’t see Remus anywhere. 

“I don’t think anyone heard,” someone was whispering into his ear. It was Elijah. 

“What?” he asked, distracted. He was still trying to locate Remus in the chaos.

Elijah faltered. “I just mean, I don’t think anyone, like, heard. Or, you know, I just think it’s going to be alright. I mean, I think it’s really cool. But yeah, I don’t think people are gonna figure it out. Like, not unless you want them to.” 

Sirius, realising what he was referring to, turned to look at him head on. “Oh,” he said. “Right, then. Thanks.”

Elijah offered him a hesitant smile. 

“It’s, um, yeah. I think it’s amazing,” Elijah continued. “I, uh, I hope things go well. Erm, for you two.”

Sirius blew out a heavy breath and raised a hand to scratch his head before remembering the wig he was wearing. 

“I appreciate that, Elijah. Thanks.” He turned away before Elijah could say anything else. He thought the kid was probably right: only a handful of people had been listening, and of them, he didn’t really care who had heard his mistake. Lily already knew, Elijah was harmless, and no one else had seemed to notice or care.

Except perhaps Moody. But Moody didn’t know who Remus was. If he asked, he trusted that Lily would handle it. Moody would probably just file Sirius away in the category of film stars too full of themselves to bother with memorising lines. Surprisingly, the thought didn’t bother him at all. It simply did not matter.

What  _ did _ matter was finding Remus, finding a bed, and taking a nap. However, before he had a decent chance to look, Kristy was shuttling him through the door and back to his trailer, Belinda just behind. He followed the current of the motion, unresistant. The euphoria and cortisol that had floated him through the long morning and afternoon were beginning to fade.

He dropped bonelessly into the makeup chair and kept silent as Belinda freed his hair and Erika gently sponged the makeup from his face. 

“You know, some actors do this for themselves,” she needled. “But if I left it up to you, you’d probably sleep in the makeup. If you ever slept, that is.”

Sirius mustered a smile and an eye roll but made no other reply. She was un-offended, making short work of the layers of pigment while Belinda unpinned his wig cap. When they were done, they trooped from his trailer in a flurry of carrying cases and dire warnings to take better care of himself.

Sirius stepped out of his tunic and replaced it on its hanger. He realised he had hung it inside out and was just debating whether or not he should redo it or leave it for the assistant dresser to fix later when there was a knock on the door to his trailer. 

He was wearing only his boxers. 

“One moment,” he called as he looked blearily around the room for his clothes. He wasn’t sure where they had gotten to, which was very irritating. He wanted to get dressed and find Remus and disappear. Instead, there was someone knocking at his door — someone who would surely want to  _ talk  _ to him for ages and ages — and all he could find was his fluffy white robe. Sighing, he tied it around his waist and crossed to the door to let in his guest. 

Despite the heat, Remus wore a woollen jumper. There was a deep flush of pink high across his cheeks and his scars stood out white against the warm skin. His eyes were bright, betraying none of the exhaustion Sirius was certain he must also be feeling. 

“Hi,” Sirius greeted, pleased but a little taken aback.

“Hi,” Remus replied, breathless. Then he was surging forwards, pushing Sirius backwards into the trailer and kicking the door shut behind himself. 

This was not the tender, curious kissing of the night before. Remus kissed ferociously, his nose pressing hard into Sirius’ cheek. It was not comfortable, but wild and ravenous. It set Sirius aflame.

Eventually, Remus pulled away slightly so that they might both catch their breaths. Sirius, who cared very little for oxygen at that point, leaned forward, chasing his lips. Instead of meeting Sirius’ lips anew, Remus dropped his forehead to rest in the hollow of Sirius’ shoulder. He noted with surprise that his robe had fallen open. Remus’ curls tickled the bare skin of his collarbone. 

“I can’t believe you,” Remus sighed.

“Oh?” Sirius asked. His hand, which had been resting in the middle of Remus’ back, crept its way up to twine through his tawny hair. 

“I can’t believe you said my name,” he said. “Fuck, Sirius, I wanted to jump you there and then.”

Sirius’ breath caught. “What are you talking about?” he asked, although he knew the answer. “You didn’t have headphones.” He was sure Remus, his ear nearly pressed against his chest, could feel the quickening of his heart.

“I did,” Remus said. “Ewan gave me his, when he went for Moody.”

“Oh,” Sirius said. “ _ Oh _ .” 

Remus lifted his head to find Sirius’ eyes. “Is that alright?”

Sirius found he could not speak. For what felt like the hundredth time that day, his face was warming with a blush. 

The thing was, he hadn’t been out of character when he made that misstep. Or, at least, he hadn’t been  _ entirely _ out of character. In that moment, he had felt acutely what it was to be Achilles. The rawness of youth; the wonderment of someone new, someone who could disrupt the habitual rhythms of life. He was sixteen, interested in the world, and eager to see what might happen next. 

And in that moment, he thought not of his character, but of himself. He thought not of Patroclus, but of Remus. Remus, who was familiar and exciting, comfortable and terrifying. Remus, who helped him to feel unburdened in a way he had never felt before. Even when he had actually been sixteen.

Remus, who was watching him now, a quiet concern in his whiskey eyes. 

“Is that alright?” he asked again. He held the lapel of Sirius’ robe in his hand, thumbing at the terry cloth. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to. It, uh — it made me very happy.”

Before he knew what he was doing, Sirius was using his hand — his hand that had never left the curls at the back of Remus’ head — to pull Remus in for another searing kiss. It was better even than the first one, both of them now riled high and hungry. Keeping his fingers tangled in the hair at Remus’ nape, he stretched his thumb forwards, pressing into the hinge of Remus’ jaw and easing his mouth open further. Then there were only tongues and teeth and a lingering taste of cloves and ginger and garlic that should have been disgusting but wasn’t.

When he felt something hard against his hip, he pulled back, breathing heavily.

“Sorry,” Remus said. “Fuck, sorry. It’s been like that since, ah—” 

Sirius could only shake his head, smiling. It served both to quiet Remus and to communicate his own sense of amazement. He’d been carefully angling his own hips away, aware that the only thing covering him was a pair of cotton boxers and a robe that refused to remain closed. However, he now permitted himself to grind forwards, letting Remus feel how much he was affected, as well. The sensation was almost too much, and he sighed deeply as the open fly of the shorts was pushed open and the sensitive skin beneath rubbed directly against rough denim. In his ear, Remus moaned, low and guttural. Nearly a growl, really.

Dropping his head down to mouth at the corner of Remus’ jaw, Sirius whispered, “I’ve never really… not with another guy—” He’d been terrified to admit it, the worry of it dancing around the edges of his mind the entire night before. But now, in the heat of the moment, he couldn’t imagine what he had been scared of. 

He trusted Remus. And he trusted anything that felt this damn right.

If Remus was surprised, he did not show it. Tilting his head back to give Sirius better access to his neck, he hummed deeply. Sirius could feel the vibration of his throat beneath his lips. It sent another jolt of desire down through his stomach. Unable to help himself, he rutted harder against Remus.

Remus took a step back, and Sirius felt his blood run cold. Had he been wrong? Was Remus disgusted? But no, Remus was tugging at the robe around his shoulders, a question in his eyes.

Sirius nodded jerkily, and then the robe was off and Sirius was wearing nothing but his pants. 

“You—you’re wearing too many clothes,” Sirius said. He’d meant for it to sound suave and possibly even roguishly demanding, but instead it just sounded like a whiny sort of observation. He cringed inwardly for a split second, but then Remus was laughing, a deep, resonant sound, and he had no space in his mind for worry any longer. 

“Help me take some off, then,” Remus coaxed, and Sirius needed no more encouragement than that. He wrapped his hands around the hem of the ridiculous jumper, pulling it upwards and getting caught on Remus’ nose. 

Remus laughed again and swatted Sirius’ hands away, pulling the offending garment the rest of the way off by himself. Underneath was the light grey t-shirt he’d been wearing that morning, and Sirius crowded forwards to tug it all the way over his head. He threw it aside without looking, consumed in yet another kiss as his hands roamed down the delicious expanses of bare skin, newly revealed. 

Then Remus was pushing him away again, undoing his own belt and pushing his jeans off with an impatience that might have been funny if Sirius hadn’t been so far gone. Kicking his jeans aside, Remus surged forwards again and reattached himself to Sirius’ lips. The kiss was messy, two mouths panting hotly against one another. Then Remus’ lips were moving, first to the corner of his lips and then to his jaw and then down the column of his neck. He paused for a moment in the hollow of Sirius’ collarbone, lapping out with his tongue to lick away some of the sweat that had begun to pool there. Sirius, his left hand once again in Remus’ hair and his right splayed across the middle of his back, contracted his fingers involuntarily at the sensation.

Sirius opened his eyes and glanced down, checking to see if he had caused pain or distress, but Remus remained focused on his ministrations, his eyes closed as he continued to nibble across the ridge of Sirius’ collarbone before continuing down the midline of his chest. 

Remus dropped to his knees, drawing his hands slowly down from Sirius’ shoulders and over his chest. His fingers lingered near Sirius’ nipples, playing with the sensitive skin that surrounded them. 

He paused and looked up between his eyelashes. “This alright?” he asked, and Sirius wasn’t sure if he meant the nipple play or everything else it was obviously leading to, but either way, the answer was an emphatic  _ yes _ . Sirius groaned appreciatively, using his own hand to guide the man’s fingers directly to the place on his chest where they might do the most good.

Remus’ fingers were strong and nimble and Sirius was lost in an ocean of sensation for a few moments. He was pulled from his reverie when those same fingers dropped from his chest and began plucking at the waistband of his boxers. 

“This alright?” Remus asked again, his lips moving against sensitive skin as his nose pressed into the ridge of Sirius’ hip.

“Yes,  _ fuck _ yes,” Sirius chanted, burying all ten fingers into Remus’ springy curls. “Please,” he added, although it came out more groan than English. 

Then Remus was tugging his boxers down the rest of the way and mouthing at the tip of his cock and any sense of cogency fled. 

~

**Remus**

Finally, they were lying together on Sirius’ sofa. They had not arrived there exactly as Remus had been imagining earlier in the day, but that certainly didn’t mean he had any complaints.

Sirius was gloriously responsive, moaning when Remus tugged on his nipples and positively keening by the time his mouth found his cock. Remus was proud of his skills when it came to giving head and he pulled out all the stops for Sirius, studiously leaving nothing unattended. 

When Sirius came, squirming and swearing, his fingers tugging rapturously at Remus’ hair, he swallowed and hummed until Sirius had ridden his wave out. Then, his forehead pressing hard into the meat of Sirius’ thigh, revelling in the feeling of Sirius’ fingers in his hair and the constant stream of curses and sighs drifting into his ears, he brought himself to a long-awaited release. 

Now they lay sticky and boneless on the broad couch cushions, Remus’ head pillowed against Sirius’ stomach. 

“Fuck, I’m tired,” Sirius groaned, still twining his fingers through Remus’ hair. “And  _ fuck _ , I love your hair.”

Remus snorted sleepily. “Look who’s talking, Mr. Pantene.”

“Huh?”

“Y’know,” — Remus raised his arm to gesture airily — “you’ve got famous person hair.”

Sirius laughed heartily then, and Remus enjoyed the rolling up-and-down motion of his taut stomach. “Fuck off with that,” he said. Then, he tacked on: “Anyways, I use Redken. So.”

Remus laughed in earnest and Sirius reached out to lay a large, warm hand across Remus’ vibrating chest. His fingers found the long, pale scar that stretched down the middle of his torso, from the bottom of his ribs to the top of his belly button.

“What’s this?” Sirius asked, his voice light and free of concern. 

Remus, who had felt his breath catch a moment before, only shrugged — not the easiest feat when one was lying on his back. “A scar,” he said. 

“I guessed that much,” Sirius chuckled. His thumb was now drifting down, past the line of scar tissue, to thumb through the patch of hair below his belly button. “Do I get to know the story?” he asked. The words were light but his tone offered a clear way out: if Remus didn’t want to tell, Sirius would not push. 

Remus, more relaxed and happy than he had felt in ages, wrinkled his nose. “It’s a long story,” he said. “I’ll tell you another time.”

Sirius hummed contentedly at that, raising his hand again and drawing his forefinger along Remus’ left eyebrow.

“You know,” Sirius said. “I have this fantasy.”

Remus’ eyes, which had been drifting shut, flew open again. “Oh?” he asked, his belly fluttering. 

“Yes,” Sirius said. “My fantasy is to take a nap with you. Right here. Right now.”

“Well, wouldn’t you know,” Remus murmured, his eyelids closing again. “I’ve been fantasising about the same thing all bloody day.”

~

**Regulus**

When Regulus woke up that morning, it was to an empty house.

He liked it that way. James was funny and Lily was lovely and Sirius was — well, he’d die for the git without hesitation, but seeing his infuriating mug on a Wednesday before noon was a leap too far. 

There was a note for him propped up on the kitchen counter, written in a messy scrawl he thought must belong to James. 

_ Brought Harry to set for a bit, then heading to beach. Feel free to join! _

Beneath that, he scribbled the name of the beach and a symbol that was probably a cursive  _ J _ , although Regulus honestly couldn’t be certain. 

However, he elected to stay at the villa, and passed an exceedingly pleasurable day by himself, dozing in the backyard, reading paperbacks, and clearing the fridge of leftovers. 

When James returned to the house at five, it was to find Regulus passed out on the white sofa, book splayed open across his nose. 

Regulus woke up to find James leaning over him, leering, with a drooling Harry in his arms. 

Regulus startled and James roared with laughter, tickling Harry on the belly as the little boy giggled along. 

“Is that how you usually wake guests?” Regulus asked sourly. 

James shrugged. “I guess not,” he said. “But family doesn’t count.”

He was wandering into the kitchen to fetch Harry a bottle from the refrigerator and didn’t notice the way Regulus froze. Shouting over his shoulder, he added, “I’m due to pick Lils and Sirius up in an hour. Want to come along?”

Regulus shrugged, then nodded, then realised James wasn’t looking at him. He cleared his throat. “Er, sure.”

“Brilliant,” James said. “Well, I’ll just feed Harry and you can wake the rest of the way up, and then we’ll go.”

~

An hour later, Regulus was fully awake and searching for his darling brother’s darling trailer. He’d visited the set the day before but it was still a veritable maze of trailers and tents, populated exclusively by people dressed in all black, holding clipboards, and walking very fast. 

James had peeled off immediately upon entering the lot, Harry strapped cosily to his chest, to find Lily in what he proudly referred to as “the Video Village”. Regulus wasn’t entirely sure what it meant but based on James’ tone, he was guessing it was a film arsehole way of saying, ‘ _ the place where the cameras are’ _ .

He had now walked past at least forty-five trailers — if it was an exaggeration, it was not an egregious one — searching for the one that had a large number one painted on its side. Of course his big brother had Trailer Number One. Because Sirius really needed the boost to his ego. 

He was passing by number three, eager to end his quest and happy his goal was finally in sight, when a tall man with a limp and eye patch drew even with him. 

Regulus startled but the man said nothing, just pacing along beside him, evidently heading to the same place he was. 

“Er, hullo?” he finally said, because he didn’t like it when strangers stood so close.

The man glanced at him briefly, his one visible eye small, dark, and piercing. He grunted a hello and continued walking. 

Regulus stopped walking. “I’m Regulus,” he said. “And who are you?”

The man stopped and turned around to face him. “Alastor Moody,” he rumbled. “You the brother?”

Regulus, who had been known as ‘Sirius’ younger brother’ his entire life, took this in his stride. He nodded, inwardly rolling his eyes. “And you’re the producer,” he said. 

Moody grinned, a gruesome, lopsided thing. “That I am, sonny.” He turned to continue his trudge but stopped, glancing back at Regulus.

“Say,” he said. “You wouldn’t happen to know who Remus is?”

“Remus?” he asked, nonplussed. He knew precisely who Remus was. But the way this man was asking made something cold clench in his stomach. 

“Yeah, Remus,” Moody said. “Only, your brother said his name earlier, by accident. Just curious. Gotta keep abreast of the drama. Ready for every inevitable crisis and all. You know how it is. Film’s a business.”

Honestly, Regulus  _ didn’t _ know how it was, but he supposed he could imagine. Something about Moody’s description of “drama” reminded him sickeningly of his parents. He squared his jaw and raised his chin, meeting Moody’s eye. 

Erasing every shred of emotion from his face, he said coolly, “Sorry, can’t help you. Never heard of him.”

Moody laughed — or, Regulus thought it was a laugh. It sounded more like a coughing fit, but his eye was crinkling. 

“Ah, son,” he said, thumping Regulus far too hard on the back. “Nothing to worry about on my account.” Then he stumped away in the opposite direction. Regulus watched him go, intense dislike curdling his stomach as a bitter taste pooling in his mouth. 

When the moment had passed, Regulus tried to shake his head clear. He recommenced his journey and arrived, finally, in front of Sirius’ trailer. He walked tentatively up the steps and rapped gently on the door. 

There was no response. He supposed Sirius could be elsewhere, but James had been fairly certain this was where he’d find him. He knocked again, a little more loudly, but still, there was no reply. 

He tried the handle and, to his surprise, it turned. The door creaked as he pushed it open.

There was no one at the little table, no one standing in the kitchenette, no one preening at the vanity. Turning his head, his eyes fell upon the sofa pushed against the far wall. 

There, lying in a tangle of boxer-clad limbs, were Remus and Sirius, both asleep. Remus snuffled gently against Sirius’ shoulder and Sirius’ chin rested atop Remus’ curly head. 

Regulus had to snort. The bloody idiots. The door wasn’t even locked. No wonder Moody was suspicious. 

He found the locking button on the inside of the door handle and depressed it. Then, creeping quietly back down the steps, he gently pulled the door closed behind him. Smiling when he heard the locking mechanism click into place, he went off in search of the Video Village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xxxxxxxx
> 
> PSA: comments are lit
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/swottypotter)!

**Author's Note:**

> Find social media extras and other cool stuff on my Tumblr @miraxb
> 
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